


under the milky way

by teddy_the_bear03



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Christmas fic, F/F, F/M, Holidays, M/M, Mutual Pining, Parties, Slow Burn, copious amounts of mistletoe, fake dating au, fake dating fic, fleshed out original characters, they're good i swear - Freeform, you asked for this!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-09
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2020-04-23 14:33:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 36,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19152997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teddy_the_bear03/pseuds/teddy_the_bear03
Summary: The holiday season is rolling around, which means that David's parents will be hosting their annual Christmas party on Canandaigua Lake. For many years, David's never brought someone along with him, but after his devious sister makes him lie about having a boyfriend, he's forced to - and who else should he bring but his longtime best friend, business partner and crush, Patrick Brewer?Fake Dating AU.





	1. of fibs and fools

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hullosweetpea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hullosweetpea/gifts).



> WOW OH MY GOSH WOW. This was... so much fun to write, and an absolute pleasure to do so. I had no idea it would end up being this long or detailed, but here we are - and I would prefer it no other way. Thank you so, so much to hullosweetpea for requesting this, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. You also picked out a recurring name theme, and I cannot thank you enough for that. This pairing NEEDED a good fake dating au, and I felt like I had to deliver.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Have an amazing time reading! <3

As most idiotic things do, it starts with a lie.

A foolish one, at that; something to save face, a prop to hold up his crumbling pride. A petty lie that could have easily been avoided if he’d just taken the high road and admitted he was wrong; but he was a Rose, and members of his family tended to not do so. But now here he was, neck-deep in a lie in which he most _ definitely _ had to keep up if he wanted to retain any shred of dignity that he had left; but he had no  _ clue _ how to.

See, it had all started because of the silly little Christmas party that his parents throw every year. It’s the biggest family occasion of the holiday season, distant relatives coming in from all parts of the country to clink their cheap champagne glasses together and give half-assed gifts to the children, most of which were too-small socks and shirts. The relatives that still pinch David’s cheeks even though he’s been an adult for some years, and the relatives that, besides sending you an occasional birthday or holiday card, don’t exactly exist in your day-to-day life. He hasn’t seen his close family in months, and his distant family even longer; the last time he can recall it was Easter  _ at least _ five years ago, when Alexis hid 100 dollars in an easter egg and then took it for herself. He’d been on the cusp of moving out then, and wasn’t fully present in the activities that ensued, so he wasn’t sure _ that _ even counted.

Now, however, he would be seeing them again, and this time with even more on his plate than before. The Christmas party was always hosted in his parent’s cabin on Canandaigua Lake, a drive about five hours from where he lived. He has good memories in that cabin, times from when they went sledding in the winter and boating in the summer, and he can’t deny that he isn’t somewhat excited about going there for the first time in six years. He hadn’t been ignoring his family, per se; in fact, he did quite the opposite, talking to his mother and father and sister every day whether he liked it or not. It was just because they, being his family, were a bit… much to handle constantly. His mother and father were extremely wealthy, able to afford a fucking cabin on a lake alongside a mansion somewhere else in New York state, and his sister had a family of her own and a successful job to keep her busy. Together, though, the Rose family was an entirely different animal; a violent, snappy, eccentric animal. One that David wasn’t equipped to deal with every single year.

He’d been thrilled when he turned eighteen and was given the opportunity to move. He left as soon as he could, renting out a small apartment in the city, and he began his new life _ alone _ with peace and quiet and the ability to do whatever he pleased. But that was the thing that his parents were so hung up on; the fact that he was, in fact, all by himself.

Maybe it was because they were raised traditionally to go to college, meet a nice person, marry them, have kids with them, grow old, retire and die, but no matter what David did or how successful he was in the business world, they didn’t seem to care as much as they did about his relationship status. They were always asking him if he’d found a girlfriend yet, if he’d met a nice guy, and it really did tick him off to no end. He was a capable human _ outside _ of romantic affairs, but that never seemed to matter to them. David knew that they meant well, and just didn’t want their only son to die alone, but it did tend to ruffle his feathers.

It mostly came from his mother, which was no surprise to him, but a fair amount also came from his sister, who was already proficient with her husband and daughter. Alexis was a little shit, no matter how much David loved her, and she likes to start the  _ why don’t you have a boyfriend? _ conversations more than anyone in their family. Even his father brings it up every now and again; little inquiries pertaining to why he seemed to never be tied down. Sometimes, even, they think that he is, and he’s just lying to them.

Which, of course, is never actually the case, and David tries to make that as obvious as possible. Whenever the topic came up, David would answer the same thing. Every single time. Because, in fact, this happened every time they called; even if it was just the subtle  _ “meet anyone new?” _ in between a conversation.

If he was seeing someone, he’s sure that he wouldn’t hide it. Sure, his family could be a bit overbearing and… critical, able to talk your ear off and not afraid to show off a bit of their wealth, but they were kind enough. Hell, David couldn’t judge even if he wanted to; he was the same way, only a little less so due to being apart from them for so long. But only few could handle them in such large doses; the last time he brought someone with him, of course they loved his family, but they also needed to go off and take a breather every so often.

David’s family was a lot to handle most of the time; he didn’t blame her, and through all of that, they were still the pair of good friends that they had been before.

He’s just never necessarily in a relationship, and he doesn’t understand what’s so  _ terrible _ about that. He has better things to work on, more important things to do; and he’s only thirty! He really doesn’t see the rush to settle down; he’s always been much more independent than the rest of his family, hence why he moved out so soon, and in all honesty, he wasn’t all that worried about finding someone to spend the rest of his life with. 

Another reason is that he just doesn’t have the time. He has his own business, his own shop down on 26th and 7th called  _ Rose Apothecary _ that he’s damn proud of; it houses everything he holds dear and it’s one of his greatest accomplishments that comes before almost anything. If he’s not working there, he’s paying his bills or with his friends, and on top of all of that? It’s not worth it to try and juggle a relationship. He knows that they don’t mean to cross-examine him every time he picks up the phone, but he always is a little hurt that they never seem to acknowledge the fact that he’s doing it all solo.

So the next time that his mother calls, he’s busy in his own kitchen, sliding his cell phone between his neck and shoulder while he tries to make dinner for himself. It’s been a late day, restocking taking much more time than he’d thought, and he’s _ tired. _ Moira, his dearest mother, is going over the Christmas plans once more: David will arrive in the evening on the 20th, they’ll have the party on the 24th, David will close down the shop while he’s gone, Moira and Ted will be making the dinner (Ted was surprisingly adept at cooking; a blessing for Alexis, who, the last time David checked, burnt fucking water) while the rest of the family wraps presents. It wasn’t anything new, so David let himself check out while she continued on. However, like the good son he is, he makes the mistake of reminding her to make two hams, not one, and this prompts her next question.

“David, will you be bringing a date? You said you’d get back to us, in case we needed to make an extra pint of mashed potatoes, but you never did.”

He groans inwardly, before responding quickly that _ no, he isn’t bringing a date, _ while he adds more pepper to the spaghetti sauce he’s multitasking with. This, of course, launches him into an entirely _ new _ conversation, one that involves his mother lecturing him about the fact that he, once again, is alone, and probably will remain that way for the rest of his life (which he isn’t too worried about.) He does his best to not get annoyed, because Moira really is just concerned, so he resorts to rolling his eyes and huffing under his breath in the safety of his own home. 

“Mom, I promise, it’s really not a big deal,” he retorts, for what feels like the millionth time. His neck aches, and while he stirs he switches his phone from one ear to the other. 

“I’ve said it before, I don’t need to bring anyone. I’ll be fine by myself; I’ll enjoy it more, yeah?” He shakes his head like she can see him, and tries his best not to let annoyance leak into his words.

“But you always come alone!” Moira exclaims, and David winces at the severity of her tone. “Maybe if you brought someone along, you’d have more fun,” she tries, as if there’s someone David would  _ actually _ bring. 

“Mom, I’m not seeing anyone, nor am I bringing anyone,” David retaliates, “I told you this yesterday, and today, and I will tomorrow, so please just… stop asking.” He is trying so very hard not to sound like a whiny child at this point, but  _ Jesus Christ, _ his mother makes it hard. 

All this leads to is every other talk he’s had with his mother about this, and he is most definitely not in the mood. So he just smiles, nods, and repeats over and over again that he doesn’t need one, he isn’t lonely, and he’s just too busy. Eventually, he has to go when he gets a little too heated and forgets to stir his spaghetti sauce, burning it where it lay on the stove. He curses under his breath, mutters a hasty  _ “yeah, yeah, love you too, I’ll talk to you later,” _ before hanging up and putting his head into his hands. 

After he eats his mildly burnt spaghetti and cleans up the kitchen, it happens; the lie that sets this entire situation in motion. He’s curled up on the couch, a glass of wine in his hand as he  _ finally _ relaxes, when Alexis facetimes him. She usually only texts him, with the occasional call about once a week, so he can say hi to Sarah, so he’s afraid that it’s an emergency of some sort. But that’s not the case; which is apparent from her greeting, which is just a lilting, “do you have any friends?”   
  
David scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Of course I do. What makes you say that?”

“Yeah, alright,” Alexis says, in that snarky, know-it-all way of hers that grates on his already-frayed nerves. It’s something she reserves specifically for him, and David hates it to no end. 

“You have, like, one friend. And that’s it.”

“I have more than one friend!” David asserts, defensiveness making his voice rise, and Alexis just _ laughs. _ “Stevie is just… my best friend. So I have one _ best _ friend. And tons of normal friends.”   
  
“Oh my god, is that them?” Alexis says, oversold surprise drenching her words, “they’re _ soooo _ cute. Hi, David’s friends!” She cooes, to absolutely no one in the room, and David raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I’m going to hang up on you, if that’s all you had to say,” he says, and makes a move to do just that when she huffs and drops the sugar-sweet act. “You’re so uptight sometimes, David,” Alexis says, smile quirking at her lips, and her brother pushes down the urge to flip her off.

“Yeah, well, whatever.” He retorts, and curses inwardly at his shockingly good comeback. Alexis, however, doesn’t seem to notice, instead changing her position to prop David up against what he thinks is her desk. She’s still in her work attire, hair pulled back and sleeves rolled up, and her makeup is faded from the day’s tasks. 

“Y’know, Mom’s really hoping you’re gonna change your mind and bring someone to the Christmas party.”   
  
David huffs. This again? 

“Well, I’m terribly sorry to disappoint, but I’m not,” he responds, taking a sip from the glass still balanced in his right hand. “Not that my dating life is any of your business; you’re married, for fuck’s sake, you shouldn’t _ care _ .”   
  
At this, Alexis frowns minimally. “Of course I should care. You’re my brother,” she offers, her expression sincere, and David feels a twinge of guilt at his jab. 

“But anyway, I’ve got it figured out. You’re dedicating your life to Satan, right?” And she’s back. David nearly spits his wine out at this, and he can tell that was the reaction she wanted; she bursts into laughter.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He asks, incredulous, and she just continues laughing. “You’re saving yourself for Lucifer, right? Your lord and savior, waiting for you down in hell. Do you need me to buy you like… a deck of tarot cards or something?” Alexis asks, and David throws his hands into the air.

“I’m  _ not _ a Satanist, Alexis. And why does everyone care so much about who I date?”

“Wait, but that would mean you _ do _ date, which you clearly don’t,” she laughs, taking full advantage of his slip-up, “you don’t have to repress your gay feelings for the Devil, David. We’ll accept you for who you are, though it might take some getting used to from Mom and Dad.”

“I’m actually going to go to your house and kick your ass.”   
  
“ _ Right, _ ” Alexis drawls, smile smug. “Okay, maybe you’re not into Satan. Are you a no-dating rights activist now?”

“They’re technically allowed to date, though,” David points out.

“You’re really not getting anywhere with your case,” she retorts, blue eyes alight with mischief, and David sighs. All he can think to say is, “yeah, well, even if I was dating someone, it’s not like I’d tell anybody.”

“But you’re not, so it’s fine,” Alexis pushes.

David looks at her for a few beats, her own expression drawn into something of a cat who got the cream. She’s always been a master of reverse psychology, prying him into answering questions he never wanted to in the first place. A feeling of odd defensiveness bubbles up in his chest, and he responds with, “how would you know?” It’s one thing when he has reasons for himself, but it’s another when it’s made out like something’s  _ wrong _ with him; like he’s scared, or like he has commitment issues, which he definitely  _ doesn’t have. _

Alexis rolls her eyes so hard David’s afraid she’ll pull something. “Because I know you by now? Because you’re my brother and even if you don’t like it, you tell me everything? Because in the history of our lives together, you’re never dating someone?” And then, of course, she has to add, “because you’re saving yourself for Satan?”   
  
“For the last time, Satan isn’t my fucking sugar daddy,” David spits, and he isn’t sure why he does it, but he then adds on, “and, for your information, you fucking gremlin, I am dating someone,” before he even realizes what he’s saying.

Alexis pauses for a few moments, staring at him through the grainy quality of her camera, before she smirks at him, mock sympathy painted on her face. “Mhm. Yeah, right, like you didn’t just spend  _ five minutes _ convincing me you weren’t.”

“Well, it’s true,” David says, matter-of-factly, but his brain is currently _ screaming _ at him to end this now. “I just didn’t say anything because we haven’t been together all that long, and I didn’t want to get your hopes up about me bringing him to the entire goddamn family.”

_ Him. _ Alright, David has a boyfriend now.

Now Alexis is looking hard through the screen, like if she bores into him enough she’ll see the truth (which tends to work in real life, but not over the telephone.) Her mouth opens and closes a few times, eyebrows raising to her hairline, like she’s trying to figure if he’s full of it or not. “So… you’ve got a boyfriend.”

David doesn’t trust himself to say anything, so he just presses his lips together and nods.

“Alright, cool. What’s his name?”   
  
David flounders for a second, eyes widening the slightest bit, before he spits, “once again, why should you care?”   
  
Alexis, to his surprise, bursts into another fit of giggles. Through her laughter, she manages out, “I knew it, you’re so full of shit!” before collapsing once more. The prideful look in her eyes when she knew she won was _ infuriating _ , and David planned to wipe it away as soon as possible.

“Stop- stop laughing! I’m not joking, Alexis!”

“Just admit that you lied, and I won’t tell anybody about the major fuck-up you just had. Deal?” Her voice rises sweetly, lilting, something that the entire Rose family has in common. David _ should _ just admit defeat right now, while his sister is offering mercy, but he’s nothing if a little prideful, and he’s David Rose; he’ll be fine.

“Sucks for you,” he responds, looking at her exasperatedly, “because I wasn’t lying.”

“ _ Really? _ ” Alexis challenges, pursing her lips together, “fine then. Prove it.”

David scoffs. “I don’t have to _ prove _ anything to you.”

“If you don’t, I’ll tell everyone about this little charade to save your pride and no one will take you seriously.” David groans and rolls his eyes as Alexis laughs, his sister covetous to make him admit that he was, in fact, a liar, which made him even _ more _ desperate to prove that she was wrong. He doesn’t like the fact that his family may think that he’s incapable of dating; he most certainly isn’t, he just… doesn’t want to.

“Okay!” David cries, gaining Alexis’s attention once more. “Fine, you want proof? I’ll  _ give _ you proof.”

“Is that so?” She questions, and he can tell although she’s keeping up her skeptical act, she’s legitimately intrigued. “Yep. I’ll prove it. In person.”

“In person!” Alexis exclaims, “what’re you gonna do? Bring him to the Christmas party this year and let everyone meet him?”

“As a matter of fact, yes, I will,” David states, doing everything to maintain eye contact with the camera, and his sister nods decisively. “Right, right. So, like, I can tell Mom, right? And Dad? Since you have nothing to hide and all,” Alexis asks, more a statement than a question, but David still makes an affirmative, forceful hum. 

“God, Mom’s gonna lose her shit. She’s gonna wear one of those glittery dresses to try and impress him and I am not going to be the one to usher her out of it,” his sister giggles.

“Ugh, goodnight. I hate you.” 

“Love you too, David! Can’t wait to meet this _ mystery man _ .”

She starts making kissy faces at the screen as David hangs up, and he scowls in the privacy of his living room. His night has been completely ruined thanks to no one but himself, with the show on a mere murmur as his brain tries to make complete sense of what just occurred. 

He’d been forced into lying by his younger sister, and now his entire family expected him to bring a goddamn boyfriend along with him to their stupid holiday party. He leans back on the couch, digging his palms into his eyes, when his phone buzzes with a text message.

It’s from his mother, and the contents of it are simply _ Can’t believe you didn’t tell me sooner, but congratulations. So excited to see you and your little bachelor. _ Alexis worked fast.

David whimpers and drinks straight from the wine bottle.

 

* * *

After a long, _ very _ fitful sleep, he wakes up the next morning and tries, once again, to come to terms with the fact of his lie. He was screwed; royally so. How in the world was he going to find a goddamn boyfriend in less than two days? He was supposed to leave the twentieth, and it was already the nineteenth; he was most definitely not going to find someone who wanted to be his fake significant other for a  _ week _ in twelve hours.

So he doesn’t try, instead opting for brooding behind the counter of his beloved store while absolutely no customers come in. It’s a slow afternoon, something David would usually be thankful for, but without the rush of customers, there was no one to distract him from his awaiting, perfectly crafted grave that was his nonexistent boyfriend. And then, like heaven sent, the bell rings, and a broad smile comes in.

“I brought coffee,” Patrick chimes, shaking the plastic bag filled with what David assumes is lunch, and the man behind the register laughs. “I hope it isn’t in  _ there, _ ” he responds, “or else I’m pretty sure we’ll have to drink from plastic bags.”

Patrick just looks at him, an amused grin on his face, before making his way to the front of the counter to place the food and drink down. He got it from  _ Café Tropical,  _ a place just a block away from their store, David knows; it’s the only place they get food from anymore. Its menu is so vast David’s eyes hurt just glancing at it; which is probably why they get mozzarella sticks every time they make a date to go there.

But it isn't a date. It’s just like… bro dinner. Or something.

Shaking away the thought of where his lunch was from, he digs in, savoring the taste of a tuna sandwich on his tongue.  _ God, _ Patrick knew him so well; it was always his preferred lunch, even though the tuna was probably in the cafe’s freezer for more than a year, and he enjoyed it so much that he didn’t hear his business partner call his name three times.

“Hello? Earth to David, David are you there?” Patrick asks, waving a hand in front of his face, and he blinks back to life. ”Sorry, sorry,” David offers, sighing gently, “just zoned out there a bit.”

“Yeah, you’ve been doing that a lot today,” the brunette points out, and David quirks an eyebrow at him in an expression similar to  _ what’s that supposed to mean? _ Clearly, Patrick picks up on this, and elaborates. 

“Well, you dropped the entire package of lip balms that we got in today, and when I tried to continue our little joke about body milks, you just nodded and didn’t even  _ try _ to argue with me. Kind of out of character, don’t you think?” 

David clicks his tongue, not necessarily disagreeing with the other’s assumption. “Okay, fine, so I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

And just like that, Patrick’s shifting closer, questioning him with a worried look. “What’s wrong?” He asks, putting his own sandwich down, and David’s heart thuds at the genuine concern in the other man’s voice. Patrick’s always been kind, always been caring, and it’s so tough not to take it all to heart and mistake it for something else. But he did, and he does, and he’ll make do.

At this, though, David can’t help but pace, so he gets up from behind the register and abandons his sandwich to stride back and forth through their shop. Patrick, ever the listener, pushes their food to one end of the counter, hoisting himself up on the other half and to look at David expectantly. He’s swinging his legs just the slightest bit, brown eyes alight with curiosity, and David tries not to let his gaze linger.

“So, you know that big holiday party my parents have every year?” He asks, and Patrick nods. “The one you… never attend,” he quips back, letting a pleased expression slide onto his lips; something too similar to Alexis’s the night before. “Yes.” David confirms, faux-frowning at his demeanor, and it’s one of the sweetest things when Patrick has to stifle his laugh behind his hand.

“I finally decided to go, right?” Patrick nods once more, and this time doesn’t say anything, urging the other to continue on. “So I told my mom a few weeks beforehand, so she could get everything ready. Now, my parents have this _ thing _ with me that every time they call, they ask me if I have a stupid… significant other.” At this, Patrick raises an eyebrow and suppresses a smile, and David scoffs. 

“C’mon, Patrick, this is serious.”

He laughs. “I didn’t say anything, but okay.”

“And when my mom called, I said I wasn’t bringing anyone. But then, my stupid fucking sister _ Alexis _ calls me, makes me out to be someone who _ can’t _ date, and then forces me to lie about having a boyfriend which I  _ clearly _ don’t have,” David finishes, crossing his arms and spinning around to look at Patrick, who’s just staring at him with his lips slightly parted in mild shock.

“What?” David asks, voice self-justifying, and Patrick chuckles, shaking his head. 

“This is… quite the grave you’ve dug yourself,” he responds, sliding off of the counter once more, and he taps his foot as he thinks. “Are you sure Alexis  _ forced _ you into saying you had a boyfriend or-?”

“Fine, maybe I said I did because she was damaging my pride and I am _ not _ here for that, but she’s the one who started it, so.” The sweater-clad man says pragmatically, even though the situation is anything but; and Patrick shakes his head once more. “Deep shit, David, deep shit,” he says slowly, almost  _ cringing _ to himself, and David throws his hands up in the air.

“I came to you for advice, Patrick! Not to be ridiculed!” He exclaims, and Patrick looks up at him with amusement. “Right, right. Like I’m the best person to come to for relationship advice,” he says, sucking in air through his teeth, and it’s David’s turn to give him a deadpan look. 

“You’re also the only person I thought who _ wouldn’t _ laugh at me, but here we are.”

“Alright, alright, I’m sorry,” Patrick states, still giggling, and he slides back up to the counter again, taking another bite of his own tuna sandwich. “Have you… considered going on one of those dating apps to try and find someone? Grindr or whatever?”

David makes a displeased face. “Absolutely not. You should know by now that I am a man of standards, Patrick,” he says, blinking at him incredulously, and his business partner snorts again.  _ Why _ does he have to be so adorable? 

“Of course you are, but I can tell you’re also pretty desperate, so I didn’t want to… put it off the table,” he says, clearly joking, and David can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, too. “Honestly, if you can’t think of anything today, I might as well,” he admits, and Patrick hits him lightly on the shoulder. “See? That’s the spirit!” He chimes, and David rolls his eyes.

“But we don’t want that!”   
  
“Yes, alright, you’ve made that clear,” Patrick murmurs, stroking his chin with his thumb as he thinks. His eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he did so, and he purses his lips together before straightening up, snapping his fingers and saying, “how about Stevie?”   
  
At this, David tilts his head at him, waiting for the punchline and Patrick’s lovely, tinkling laughter. But after a few beats, with Patrick’s smile faltering just the slightest bit, David realizes that there is no punchline and has to hold back the laughter bubbling in his chest.

“You’re absolutely right, she’s the  _ perfect _ solution,” he says slowly, nodding at the same speed, “Stevie is the best choice to introduce to my family as my new _ boyfriend _ . Wow, how did I not think of that?”

There is the laughter, and Patrick’s sweet beam when he realizes his mistake. Instead of answering and facing the full wrath of David’s sarcasm he pauses to take another bite of his three-fourths finished sandwich. “I don’t know, she seems like the most decent person to take; she’s the most no-nonsense out of us, I think she can handle their… what do you call it? Powerful nature?”

David laughs. “I’m sure I’ve called it that at some point, and yeah, would be nice, but I’ve… technically already taken her. And even she couldn’t handle it.” Patrick looks at him, disbelieving. “That,” he says, pointing a finger into David’s fluffy fabricated chest, “is a story for another time.” 

“Mhm, sure,” the man responds, “another time, definitely. But what _ else _ can I do? There’s no one in the world who would-,”

“What about me?”   


David recoils and blinks for a few seconds to try and register the words that have just come out of his coworker’s mouth. “I’m… sorry?” He asks, his entire body moving with his question, and suddenly his appetite is gone.

“I said,” Patrick chuckles, kicking the other gently, “what about me? I’m starting to get a little offended that I hadn’t even been considered… do you think I’ll make a terrible impression?” David _ would _ laugh, but he can hear a little bit of hurt in Patrick’s tone, and he shakes his head to deny the self-deprecating comment.

“That’s… no, oh my God, that’s not it at all,” he reassures, and he’s so caught up in recovering the conversation that he doesn’t notice the way Patrick’s shoulders relax and his eyes flicker down to David’s lips. “I don’t know, I thought you would’ve offered by now, or that you were busy, or…” 

“Am I supposed to be a mind reader?” Patrick teases, and David laughs breathily. “Not at all, actually; my parents decided to go to _ Costa Rica _ this year, leaving their poor son to fend alone in freezing New York weather. So kind of them, right?”   
  
“Absolutely,” David responds, “and perfect for our case. But… you’re serious? You’d do that?”   
  
“Definitely!” Patrick agrees, not a _ hint _ of hesitation in his tone, and David is flattered. “I can get all packed by tonight, and we can meet back here tomorrow. I am a quick worker, as I’m sure you’ve noticed,” he teases, quoting David from a few minutes before, and at this he smiles. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “so much. I literally owe you so much from this-,”

“ _ Please _ ,” Patrick insists, patting David’s hand gently, “it’s my pleasure.”

At this, Patrick jumps off of the register, cleaning up his own food before offering David a wry smile. “Don’t want to let that get too warm,” he reminds, more joking than legitimate, but the shop owner appreciates it anyway. As Patrick goes into the back room to throw away his lunch, David exhales, eyes fluttering closed, and tries to swallow down the lump forming in his throat.

Because it wasn’t as if he’d thought to _ not _ ask Patrick to come; in fact, he’d thought about it as soon as he’d gotten off of the phone with Alexis. He was one of the closest friends David had, someone he could legitimately trust, and he didn’t want to ruin it. But now, by taking him on this silly little Christmas excursion, he was risking revealing one of the only things Patrick didn’t know about him.

The fact that, ever since they’d agreed to be business partners, David’s had the _ biggest _ crush on Patrick Brewer.


	2. of methods and meetings

The engine rumbles beneath him as the car hums to a stop, the sun creasing over the skyline like a pretty fold of paper. It’s the beginning of the afternoon, the sky blue and looking deceivingly warm, and David wished for a moment it was not Christmas but the start of summer. He’s parked outside of the _ Rose Apothecary, _ anxiousness manifesting itself in all forms including the current tapping on his wheel, and he lets his breath out in small increments, the sound doing _ nothing _ to soothe his nerves. He tries to remind himself that he has nothing to be nervous about, that it’s just Patrick, and it’s just his family.

But Patrick was his crush, and his family thought he was his boyfriend.

Blinking rapidly to stop himself from spiraling any further, he pulls the key out of the ignition, leaving the car to finally quiet. He sits for a moment, basking in the sunlight that envelopes the small space, before finally getting out of his vehicle to face the situation at hand, which he most definitely did not want to do. Double-checking, he notes that his bag is in the trunk, and his parking job was decent, so he makes quick work of locking the doors and heading into the store, flipping his sunglasses onto the top of his head. 

The only word to describe it was magical.

He’d known that Patrick had stayed late last night, although why, his co-worker hadn’t let on. But now, of course, he _ did _ know; due to the _ extreme _ amount of Christmas decorations that floated around the shop. Christmas lights were strung from every corner, along with ornaments and possibly hand-crafted paper snowflakes hanging from the window beams. There was a small snowman plush that rested on the shelf with the bath salts, and David probably would’ve moved it to the soaps if it hadn’t been so lovingly placed. The soft jazz had been changed to Christmas instrumentals, and he is so enchanted that he doesn’t hear Patrick walk into the main area.

“Do you like it?” His voice, however, does break David out of his thoughts, and he nods quickly. “It’s amazing,” the business owner replies earnestly, and the smile that stretches across Patrick’s face is worth the entire nightmare trip they’re about to go on. 

“Yeah, wanted to do a little something to surprise you. Too bad the customers won’t see it until after Christmas,” Patrick laughs, gazing around the shop himself, and David can tell he’s a little proud of his work, too. And for good reason; he can tell Patrick worked hard, and the fact that a part of him wanted to do it for _ David _ already made his mind wander. Here he was, not even in the first hour of Christmas vacation, and he was imagining things that most definitely weren’t there. He was fucked.

“Anyway,” Patrick says, cheeks flushing mildly from the praise David was offering him, “should I, uhm, go grab my stuff, and all that?” 

David presses his mouth together, before nodding gravely. Patrick barks out a laugh, shaking his head at his business partner’s antics before making quick work of going to the back and grabbing his things. Luckily, he was fast enough to not let David sink into his thoughts once more, and returns with not only a duffel bag filled with what was presumably clothes but a cardboard box stacked with miscellaneous objects that David couldn’t get a good look at. Clearly, though, Patrick was pleased with its contents, if the expression he wore was any indication. 

He jiggles the box happily, waggling his eyebrows alongside it, and David giggles despite himself. When Patrick walks to the other side of the register, standing alongside the dark-haired man, David can’t help but take a glance and is _ thoroughly _ surprised. It’s stacked to the brim with snacks and CDs, some of which he hasn’t even heard of, and he makes it a mental note to explore more into Patrick’s music taste. 

“You have come prepared,” David jokes, making a move to pick up one of the CD cases to examine it, but Patrick swats his hand away. He clicks his tongue, adjusting the box underneath his arm so David cannot reach, and he says, “no touchies until we’re in the car. You have to save the _ surprise _ .”

David rolls his eyes, but obliges, backing away from the treasure trove of goodies that Patrick gathered. “You go ahead,” he says, to which he gains a questioning look, “I’ll lock up. You’ve done so much already, yeah?” 

Patrick’s eyebrows still don’t relax but he nods, making his way to the door of the store. “It’s really not that hard to lock up, but alright. See you in a few,” the brunette says in a sing-songy tone, before exiting and shutting the glass door behind him. David watches him go, and then leans against the counter, sighing softly.

He really shouldn’t be getting all that worked up over it, but he is and it sucks. He knew that Patrick meant well, and that everything would work out one way or another, but his resolve was cracking and he didn’t _ like it _ . He was David Rose, he was supposed to be the strong, independent shop owner that everyone believed he was; not some child getting upset over their crush. But here he was, taking shuddering breaths and hiding from the person who was supposed to be helping him the most.

It takes him a few more moments to collect himself, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to get up off the wood and into the real world. With a flourish that no one but himself was there to see, he pushes his sunglasses down over his eyes, and locks the register with the key that sits within the counter drawer. He slams it back in with ease, strides to the front of the shop, locks the door, and walks straight into the mouth of hell.

He’s at least a little happy that Patrick is waiting for him at the gate.

“So kind of you to unlock the car for me,” the said man quips, and David flushes with both the cold and the comment. 

“Yeah, well, sometimes, I just like to keep you waiting,” he retorts, though he _ does _ click the vehicle open. David’s too busy crossing the street that he doesn’t realize the double entendre of his words and the blush that spreads across Patrick’s cheeks; and even if he did, he would’ve blamed it on the cold.

David ducks underneath the car roof, settling himself in for the five hour drive, and watches through the rear-view mirror as Patrick lifts his duffel bag into the trunk. He’s pretty, but there’s no difference there; he _ always _ looks unfairly attractive. In fact, nothing at all is unusual about him; he’s wearing his typical blue collared shirt and slacks, with his hair the same exact way as it always was, and his brown eyes still able to drown a man. But, in a way, something feels like it’s shifted; just a little off-kilter from where it was the day before. Maybe it was the fact that they were pretending to be in love threw their balance off just a tad.

As David drinks from his thermos of coffee, whose steam still curls into the air, Patrick opens the passenger’s side door and climbs in, shivering for a few beats from the cold. David’s glad that it hadn’t snowed in the past couple of days; he didn’t want to risk driving on unplowed back country roads, which is subsequently where his parents chose to buy their lake house. No matter; there was no worry for snow, so he shouldn’t dwell on it. But he does; it’s just a little more comforting than the bigger worries at hand. 

But then Patrick taps him on the shoulder, making him jump so high he has to scramble to not let his coffee drop. His business partner backs away quickly, even though there was no actual spillage, and laughter bubbles out of his chest. 

“You alright there?” He asks, in between fits of giggles, and David can’t prevent the wry smile that appears on his face. “Perfectly fine. Thank you dearly for scaring the shit out of me.”   
  
“You’re so welcome,” Patrick replies, voice airy, and then picks up the box of goodies that lay at his feet. “I wanted you to pick our first honorary CD of the drive, since you’re the one actually driving us, and all.”   
  
“Well, I am flattered.” He leans down minimally to sift through the stacks of CDs when Patrick moves the box away from him quickly, appalled. “What?” David asks, eyebrows rising to his forehead, and Patrick gives him a loose smile. 

“You can’t _ look _ ,” he explains, and David scoffs in response. “You just said you wanted me to pick!” 

“I meant… pick with your eyes closed,” he resolves, and David rolls said eyes before sliding them shut and feeling around with his hand. He hears a snort from next to him when he touches the Pringles cans instead, and swats Patrick quickly before delving his hand back in. This earns him a scandalized “hey!” and he laughs for a beat before settling on a mystery tape and pulling it out, cracking both eyes open to see Patrick’s face light up.

“Amazing intuition, David,” he says excitedly, taking it from the driver’s hands and cracking it open. From what he could see, it looked like a musical selection of some sort, and recognition floods over him when he sees that it’s _ Cabaret _ . He smiles to himself, also glad that he picked the CD; he remembers the production Patrick starred in like it was yesterday, and more importantly the goddamn _ outfit _ he’d worn during his time in the musical. It took all of David’s willpower not to pull him by his straps and kiss him silly.

He puts the key into the ignition, the car blinking to life, and Patrick quickly unboxes the CD from its plastic prison into his hand. “I can’t believe cars still even _ have _ CD players,” David muses as Patrick hits eject experimentally and, when nothing comes out, slides the disc into the corresponding player. 

“Right? Maybe they still put them in cars for old, nostalgic people like us,” the brunette jokes, and David grins in response. “You mean old people like _ you?” _ He corrects, and Patrick swats him playfully. He opens his mouth to retort something when the opening song begins to play, and he delves back into the character he was some three years ago.

_ “Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome!” _ He sings, and David snorts as he pulls out of his beautiful parallel parking job into the street. He doesn’t have to look over to know that Patrick is beaming, and they let the familiarity of the soundtrack wash over them in German waves. At the one minute, forty five second mark, after Patrick belts out a very promising _ “I am your host!” _ he cues David to sing, but his business partner just shakes his head, laughing to himself. Patrick pretends to be devastated, putting a wounded hand over his heart, and gives David an upset look.

“Do you, David Rose, not know the words to the famed song _ Willkommen?” _ Truth be told, the answer was absolutely not; but he liked that reason much more than his original one, which was just wanting to hear Patrick sing. 

“I mean, to be fair, I know the tune,” David offers, as he transfers smoothly onto the first exit leading to the interstate, and Patrick shakes his head, tsking softly. “Doesn’t count. We will listen to this five times over if we must!” He says it with a joking tone, but David is slightly worried that he isn’t kidding.

They get through it four times before Patrick goes hoarse.

“You do realize you have to talk to my family, right?” David teases. Patrick makes a noncommittal noise in his throat as he cracks open a water bottle from the box at his feet, chugging it with the intensity of a man parched. “Yes,” he replies, taking it from his mouth and leaning against the headrest, and then looks at David earnestly. “Speaking of which, shouldn’t we be on the same page about our story? It’s no good if we tell your family two different things.”

Damn, Patrick had a point, but this upsettingly brought David back into a world where he is not being half-serenaded by Patrick and is instead facing his family for the first time in five years. 

“To be completely honest, I thought you’d already have a plan of some sort. Maybe even on a rise, color-coded spreadsheet, or something like that.” The comment was meant to be a joke, borderline _ absurd _ , but the embarrassed flush that blooms on Patrick’s cheeks tells him that he wasn’t actually too far off. 

“It’s not a spreadsheet, _ but,” _ to confirm David’s suspicions, he pulls out an itemized list, handwritten and most _ definitely _ colored coded with different highlighters. “I, uhm, organized them from most believable to least,” he explains, progressively getting redder and redder, and it’s the sweetest thing David’s ever seen.

“What’s the best one?” David asks.

Patrick scans the list for a second, eyebrows furrowing in quick concentration before he erupts into violent tittering. David glances over at him, a mild look of both worry and amusement on his face, asking an acerbic “what?”. Patrick, after his giggles have calmed down enough for him to speak, promptly responds with, “it says that we met because… because I was your drug dealer…!”

Now they _ both _ burst into voluptuous laughter, Patrick so much so that he starts to _ snort, _ and it is so lovely David’s heart aches for a beat. “I… I  _ do _ think we should go with that one,” the driver manages out, and Patrick can do nothing but nod for much longer than needed. 

“You fell for my sweet-ass cocaine,” he replies, and David laughs so hard that sound no longer comes out.

It takes them a few minutes to calm down, David asking where in the  _ world _ he came up with that idea to which Patrick replies with an embarrassed, “it was last minute, okay?” However, they sadly do put the idea aside, Patrick reassuring his business partner that they could always use it another time. David refuses to let his mind dwell on the comment that he probably meant nothing by.

“No, no, but actually? Maybe we just go with the story we already _ have, _ ” Patrick pitches, and David’s mouth turns downward into a questioning look. “You know,” he continues, “the whole… business partners turned friends turned lovers thing.”   


Patrick then chuckles to himself, and David is pretty sure it’s more for the absurdity of the situation than the humor of the statement. Unbeknownst to David, he pauses for much longer than necessary, which causes Patrick to become uneasy. “I understand if you think it’s a stupid idea,” he blurts, “I just thought-,”

“No, no, it’s great,” David interrupts, silently reprimanding himself for not replying sooner. Truth be told, it really was a good plan; one they wouldn’t forget easily, or have an opportunity to slip up on. He’d told his family about Patrick before, although it was never in great detail- they didn’t _ know _ him, per se, but they do know _ of _ him. It was a solid ruse, and David didn’t know why his mind continued to toss it back and forth. Perhaps it sat so rigidly in his stomach because it hit a little too close to home.

God, what if he and Patrick had to _ kiss? _ In front of David’s entire family? Or what if they had to act domestic and normal and oh man, he really hadn’t thought of the repercussions. He hasn’t been in a committed relationship for over five years, the longest only being three fucking _ months, _ and now here he was, pretending to be in love with his business partner. Not to mention the business partner that he was _ actually in love with. _

“Perfect, then!” Patrick jolts him out of his thoughts, and at that, he couldn’t lie; he was excited to see his family, it was just that his anxiety about the entire situation drowned out the giddiness just a tad. He had to remind himself that in the end, it was, after all, Patrick, who calmed David’s picky demeanor and who offered him the kindest, most soothing smiles he’s ever been given. Just thinking about it made his nerves quiet, even if for a moment, but it’s too late; Patrick’s already noticed. The brunette leans over, gently placing a hand onto David’s hand that rests on his leg, and offers him a gentle smile.

“David, we’re going to be fine,” he assures, and the said man chances a glance at Patrick to see nothing but earnesty swimming in his honey brown eyes. “I know,” he manages out, a little more than taken, and then Patrick smiles again and David is even more so.

“You know what’s going to make us be even more fine?” He asks, leaning back in the passenger seat, and David can hear the grin in his voice as he does so. “What’s that?” He responds, taking the bait anyway, because honestly? Patrick’s already got him, hook, line, and sinker. 

“If you tell me about your family,” he prompts, and David groans, rolling his eyes as he continues watch on the road. Of course; besides being one of the sweetest people he knew, Patrick could be a goddamn tease if he wanted to. 

_ “Fine,” _ David huffs, tipping his head to one side in order to stretch his neck and also to bide him an inkling of time. “My mother was an actress, but she has not yet realized that her time has come and gone. My dad is a super fucking rich business owner, and my sister is making it big as a CEO of her own company.” He says this nonchalantly, as if it’s completely normal to have such a successful family, but when Patrick doesn’t say anything for a couple beats he looks over to see his mouth slightly agape and eyes wide.

“What?” He asks, mildly defensive, and Patrick laughs incredulously.

_ “Everything  _ about you makes a lot more sense now,” he says wondrously, and David smiles wryly. “Is that so?” he asks, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Patrick nod. “Yeah, it does. The dry humor, the high expectations-,”

“Hey!” David exclaims, shoving the passenger lightly, and Patrick does nothing but laugh in response. “You know you love it,” David jabs back, barely registering the words coming out of his mouth, but Patrick’s ears go bright red and he’s so close to apologizing profusely when he glances up at him, offering him the sweetest smile and murmuring a soft, “that I do.”

The silence between them grows thick and heavy and tangible and David can’t decide whether he likes the tension or not. However, his mouth acts before his longing brain and says a heartfelt “thank you!” before hastily continuing on. He didn’t want to seem like he was brushing Patrick off, but his mind _ refused _ to acknowledge any bit of the possibility that the businessman liked him back. He wasn’t sure if he could handle it. David’s so caught up in scrambling for different words that he does not notice the resigned look that flickers across Patrick’s features.

“My… uh, my sister has a husband and she also gave birth to the best member of the family, Sarah Rose,” David adds, searching in lew for the exit that will transfer them to Naples, the nearest town to his parent’s cabin. Patrick cooes softly, the previous tension dissipating. 

“Aw, your sister has a kid? How sweet,” he agrees respectfully, and David can’t help but smile at both him and the thought of his niece.

“Yeah, she does. She’s usually a sweetheart, but she sure as hell inherited her mother’s temper.” Patrick giggles at this, nodding slowly. 

“I vaguely remember meeting Alexis when you first opened the store. Did she have Sarah then?” In response, David nods, and begins once more. “During that time, she was having a disagreement with Ted, so he’d watched Sarah while she visited me.” Patrick listens empathetically, before his brows twist in embarrassment. 

_ “That _ explains why she flirted with me,” he says, more to himself than David, but the driver still explodes with laughter.

David could never pinpoint exactly _ where _ he found out that he liked both men and women. It had always kind of been a part of him, and he’d never known that it was taboo until he’d been ridiculed at school. Ever since then, he’d kept it on the down low until he’d graduated; then, he was free to do whatever he felt. But Patrick was different; he’d spent all of his life in the closet, knowing who he was or why he felt so strongly about men and not women. But then, about two years after they’d started working together, on one of their bro dinners, Patrick had rushed out that he thought he was possibly gay. He went on to saw how David was the first person he’d ever told, it explained how he felt all his life, and- he didn’t manage to get anything else out but shuddering sobs, but David just moved to the other side of the booth, whispered that he was immensely proud of him and that he’d always be there, and ordered more mozzarella sticks.

Inside, David had felt an immense lift in his chest; one that meant his crush could possibly, maybe feel the same way about him. When he’d let go of Patrick, still close enough to see every speck of gold in his eyes, he’d thought for just a fraction of a second that he was going to kiss him. The way his lips had parted minimally, the almost _ shy _ expression on his face… It would’ve been so easy to lean in, pressed their mouths together and bask in the feeling, but alas, David did not. A part of him believes that it was the best idea; maybe it would’ve been too forward, or too soon, but another, selfish part of him believes it was the right time, and he can’t believe he’s still torn up about it.

“I’m glad they worked it out,” Patrick says decisively, and David nods in return. 

“Ted’s great, really sweet guy. He’s a veterinarian. Sarah always wants to help with the animals, much to Alexis’s chagrin,” they both laugh, “but they’re cute.” David smiles fondly at the thought of his sister and her family. As much as he dislikes babies, he does admit to himself that, _ maybe _ somewhere far down the line, it would be nice to have… a family, he means. But he currently has bigger fish to fry; including Bay Road, which was the last left before his parent’s home.

“Well,” David sighs, rubbing his eyes, “we have nearly arrived.” At this, he can feel the surge of excitement radiating from Patrick as he shoots up, beaming brightly. David laughs at his business partner’s sudden burst of energy. 

“Glad to see one of us is ready,” he murmurs, and he can make out Patrick’s happy face melt into one of genuine concern, even in the darkening twilight. He checks the clock- it’s a quarter past eight, and he’s pleased with the time they’ve made. David then exhales slowly, nerves flickering to life like a livewire, and in that moment, a part of him wanted to make a u-turn and not see his family again for another year.

But he doesn’t, stills himself enough to drive just the little stretch into the concrete driveway of the Rose household at the end of the street. He hears Patrick suck in a breath as the cabin comes into view, before whispering a quiet but completely warranted, “holy shit.”

The cabin is grand, built with sturdy, beautifully colored cedar that never seemed to wash out in the summer. There’s an open, wraparound porch on both stories, wooden steps leading to the elegant glass front door on the first floor. Yellow Christmas lights are strung on the porches, illuminating the house in a warm glow, and on the second story Patrick can see a large, fancily decorated Christmas tree peeking out through the window. It looks exactly like the houses he’s only ever seen in magazines, and he finally starts to grasp how _ rich _ David’s family may be.

“Wow,” he breathes once more, and he hears David’s quiet, adorable giggle. “It’s a lot, right?” He half jokes, half asks, and Patrick can do nothing but nod affirmatively. “I can’t believe you came here _ every summer. _ ”

David then hums noncommittally, looking off outside of the window to his right. “Yeah, well, we did, so.” His voice is teetering on upset, and his chest clenches when Patrick touches his shoulder and gives him the most honest, concerned look he’s ever been on the receiving end of. It briefly occurs to him that he’s possibly not used to gaining affection, or… even being cared about. How sad.

“David, look at me,” Patrick murmurs, and the other slowly turns to meet his gaze. When did Patrick get so close? “We’re going to be okay, yeah? We’re gonna be _ fine,” _ he reassures, and it sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them of this fact. David, heart still teetering on disbelief, presses his lips together and nods once; but alas, Patrick can see right through him. 

“I know you’re scared and worried, but try to enjoy yourself, alright? You haven’t seen your family in _ ages. _ And I promise you’ll be okay - you’ve got me here, yeah?” He says it as a joke, and he doesn’t realize how much David’s chest lifts at the words.

“I’ll be counting on you, then,” he replies softly, poking a finger into Patrick’s shoulder, and the other chuckles before backing away. David misses the closeness, but he relents, opening the car door and stepping out into the frigid lake air. Patrick follows suit, a shiver immediately running up his spine, but he smiles at David from over the car roof and he looks so _ pretty _ illuminated by the house lights behind him.

They make quick work of unloading the trunk and slinging their bags onto their arms, Patrick blowing forlorn kisses to the box of goods that still rests on the passenger’s side of the car floor. “You’ll see it soon enough,” David giggles, and Patrick pouts in return. “ _ It _ is Susan, and she was the best car ride buddy I’ve ever had.”   


David exclaims a betrayed “hey!”, wrinkling his nose in mock distaste, and Patrick sticks a childish tongue out at him, prompting them both to laugh. They make their way to the stairs, where Patrick adjusts the blue duffel bag that rests on his shoulder, before they cast hopeful looks at one another and stride up the wooden case to the beginning of their holiday.

* * *

 

David creaks the door open, peering in to check for family members before they tiptoe through the threshold and into the foyer. The ceiling towers up above them, a crystal chandelier hanging from a chain and adorning the opening with a warm light, and the hardwood floors below them are also made out of the elegant cedar. They slide off their shoes, Patrick gaping at practically everything around him  _ including _ the shoe holder itself, and David is deeply upset that he has to control his amusement.

They’re silent as they walk through the warmly colored hallway and into the living room, holding bated breaths as they scan the area for any signs of human life. David is about to exhale when he spies two heads above the couch, and on instinct he grabs Patrick’s shoulder to stop him from whatever move he was going to make next. The brunette’s head spins around so fast David’s afraid he’ll get whiplash, and he too locks onto the figures that rest on the sofa. However, they must have heard the faint rustle of clothing, because Alexis’s head turns as a smile appears on her face.

“David!” She exclaims, immediately leaping up from the couch and waving her arms around violently before wrapping them around her brother. She bounces up and down, clearly thrilled to see him, and he can’t help it; he’s missed her so much, so he drops both his bags and hugs her back just as hard. Alexis smells like soap and crayons and contentedness, and David can’t believe he’s gone this long without seeing his sister.

Like she can read his mind, she quickly kisses his cheek and goes, “it’s so good to see you!” She’s practically buzzing with excitement, and the laughter that curls out of David is genuine. “You, too,” he agrees, “I missed you more than I care to admit.”   
  
“Gee, thanks,” Alexis quips back, hitting his arm lightly, “you’re too kind.” She then turns to Patrick, who has thus far been grinning at them and shifting his weight, and she does a violent double take. She blinks at him for a few beats, taking in the full extent of his profile, before wrapping him up in a hug, as well.

“Patrick!” She greets, pulling away and tugging lightly on the collar of his shirt, “surprising, but always a pleasure to see you. It’s a shame my brother didn’t tell me that he was dating his  _ business partner _ sooner,” Alexis says, matter-of-fact, looking between the two of them expectantly.

“Totally called this, by the way,” she adds, and David can feel the heat rush to his cheeks. It _ was _ true; when she’d first met Patrick, she’d gestured wildly to him and gave David a violent thumbs up… one that he, of course, ignored. But Patrick, ever the calm one, just smiles gently and laces his and David’s fingers together, swinging their hands slowly between the two of them.

“I’m happy that you did,” Patrick responds, squeezing gently, and it feels so natural David is _ sure _ that Patrick will be the death of him.

Alexis  _ awws _ before Ted comes up behind her from the couch, sneaking a kiss to her temple before greeting the two men in front of him. He gives David a quick hug, thudding his shoulder blade, and the business owner is a little thrown by how fast the gesture actually is; _ far  _ faster than any of Patrick’s hugs, but he chalks it up to Ted being Ted and doesn’t question it. 

The veterinarian then turns to Patrick, offering a hand out, to which the other dutifully takes and shakes it. “Ted, it’s a pleasure. I would say David’s told me all about you, but honestly? He hasn’t,” the man introduces himself, and in return, Patrick gives the most exaggerated wounded look of all time to David. “Really? I’m hurt,” he says, to which David rolls his eyes and scoffs amusedly. 

“Oh! I forgot you didn’t meet him, Ted,” Alexis pipes up, and nods to the blue-clad man. 

“Patrick here is David’s business partner; they both work at David’s little store in the city. They’re so  _ cute _ ,” she cooes, and David rolls his eyes at her, trying desperately to quiet the waves of anxiety now sweeping through his system. He’d _ completely _ forgotten that Alexis had met Patrick while _ Rose Apothecary _ was still in the works, and now he felt even more on edge because of it. Sure, she didn’t know him well, but still enough that she’d be on David’s ass about it for the next year.

“Right, right,” he deflects, tightening his grip on Patrick’s fingers, “where’s Mom and Dad?”

“I don’t know, actually,” Alexis answers, looking into the kitchen on their left and furrowing her eyebrows. “They might’ve gone to sleep early, we just-,”

Suddenly, the couch squeaks once more, and little footsteps pitter-patter on the hardwood floor to stop in between Alexis and Ted. David looks down in unmasked glee to see a head of blonde hair and bright blue eyes staring back up at him, face scrunched up in excitement and arms valiantly unstretched. He cries a very dignified “Sarah!” before letting go of Patrick’s hand and picking the girl up, spinning her around before holding her in his arms.

Sarah was unabashedly David’s favorite member of the family. She had her mother’s creativity, crafting some of the funniest and most intricate stories David’s ever _ heard _ with her dollies, and she had her father’s kindness, always offering David a “spot of tea” in the sweetest little British accent he’d ever heard. The last time he’d seen the youngest Rose had been  _ more _ than five years ago, when she could barely talk, and he could feel tears stinging his eyes when he could barely hold the now-seven year old.

“Uncle David!” Her scream is high-pitched and _ loud _ in David’s ears, but he frankly can’t bring himself to mind; he just hugs her tighter, arms stinging due to the fabric of her pink princess dress, and says an equally happy, “niece Sarah!” in return. She giggles, holding onto his shirt, and David swears he’s never loved a kid more. 

He puts her down, and like the royalty she is, she straightens out her dress and adjusts the tiara balanced on her head, brushing off invisible dirt before casting a wary glance to Patrick. She really was her mother’s child. Sarah looks at him up and down, Patrick’s expression a worried smile, and her decision on him is harrumphing and turning from him. Patrick, however, just laughs softly, eyes crinkling.

“Who’s this little one?” He asks, more out of courteousness than anything, and Alexis sighs softly when Sarah refuses to make eye contact with the man. “I’m guessing she already doesn’t like me.”   


“Aww, it’s alright, I’m just her favorite,” David winks, and he looks to her, letting her wrap her own smaller fingers around his palm. “Do you want to meet Patrick? I promise he’s friendly,” he asks, and she looks at the said man one more time before pouting and shaking her head. Everyone watching the interaction chuckles, including Patrick himself, and David shrugs at him, offering a simple, “she just needs some time to get used to you. She’ll come around, it’ll just take a little bit.”

“It’s alright,” Patrick reassures, smiling, “I’m sure I look very scary, but I promise I’m not.” In all his years, David has never seen Patrick interact with children, and it’s by far one of the cutest things in the world. His stomach flutters, and he clears his throat, squeezing Sarah’s hand before letting it go.

Alexis opens her mouth to say something when an excited “yoo-hoo!” bellows out from the stairs, and both the siblings groan instantaneously. Their mother and father enter the living room from the stairwell, Moira’s eyes ablaze, and she outstretches her arms and makes a grabby motion towards David, who hugs her tightly. Her grip feels like coming home, and he sinks into the hug, sighing. She laughs, patting the back of his neck, before leaning away and giving a kiss to his temple.

“It’s so good to see you, dear,” Moira murmurs, patting his shoulder, and she backs up enough so that Johnny can give David a quicker but still meaningful hug. “It’s good to see you both, too,” David agrees, smiling wryly, and when he feels a presence at his side, he instinctively touches Patrick’s arm to ground himself.

“Mom, Dad, this is my boyfriend, Patrick.” He introduces, and Patrick gives a small, shy wave before leaning forward to shake both of their hands. “It’s so great to meet you both. Your home is beautiful; thank you so much for inviting me,” he says earnestly, and David can tell Moira already likes his polite demeanor. 

“Of course,” she responds in her familiar drawl, “tis a shame I had to bully David into getting you to come.” 

“Actually,” Alexis interjects, “it was me who pried it out of him. We were talking on the phone and he kept insisting he didn’t have a boyfriend until-,”

_ “Okay!” _ David says loudly, holding his hands out in a slow-down gesture, “we get it, I was wary of him coming with me, let’s all be happy he’s here now, alright?”

Alexis pops her lips, not meeting his gaze and smiling slyly, but to his relief, his mother relents. Ted picks Sarah up, and the other couple moves toward the circle, all of them joining in on the rising conversation at hand. “How was the trip down here?” Johnny asks, and so it begins.

The Roses, above all, were proud talkers. They could discuss practically _ anything _ , so long as they had basic knowledge of the subject, and loved to do so, especially with less educated people. But when all of them were in one room, it erupted into chaos; not one person could get more than three sentences out before another family member interrupted with their own two cents. 

While they were talking about the trip to Canandaigua Lake, Sarah begins to wriggle in Ted’s grasp, so he offhandedly sets her down on the hardwood floor before beginning to explain the benefits of Prius cars, which would’ve (in his opinion) greatly benefitted David’s mileage. She looks around for a few beats, before her eyes landed on Patrick, and she stomps over to him, crossing her arms. 

Patrick immediately loses interest in the conversation, meeting the small child’s gaze, and the ripple of chatter quiets as everyone in the room looks to see what’s happening. David bites back a smile as Sarah sizes him up, before she says in a guarded tone, “I’m a Princess.”   
  
Patrick’s voice is playful, and he gasps softly, feigning surprise. “Is that so? Well, I  _ was  _ wondering why you were wearing such a pretty dress and tiara.” He then leans in closer, prompting a stage-whisper of, “is this your castle?”

She pauses, regarding him slowly, before nodding, decisive. “Yes. You must do what I say.”

“Sarah,” Alexis cuts in, tone reprimanding, “that isn’t how we treat family.” David can feel the triumphant energy radiating off of her, but Patrick just smiles and shakes his head. 

“No, no, it’s fine,” he says. He gets down on one knee so he’s eye-level with the girl, narrowing his own and giving her his trademark smile before asking, “should I call you Princess Sarah?”

She ponders this for a moment, tapping her tiny foot, before nodding again.

“Alright.” 

They stare at each other in silence, before Sarah takes her hand and flicks Patrick’s forehead with it. David sucks in air through his teeth, both he and his sister ready to reprimand her for her behavior, before Patrick holds out a hand to stop them and shakes with laughter.

“And what was _ that _ for, Princess Sarah?”   
  
She looks at him like he’s a fool. “Now you’re royalty, too.”

“Oh, perfect!” Patrick agrees, leaning back on his foot. “Do I get to be a princess, or do I have to be something else?”

“You can be a princess, too,” she confirms, a little smile tugging at her lips.

“Do I get a tiara?”   
  
“No.” She says this so quickly Patrick can’t help but laugh again, and her smile grows wider. “Okay, but I don’t think we should tell anyone that I’m a princess, because then _ they’re _ all going to want to be princesses, and that’ll ruin our secret princess fun.” Patrick sounds so scandalized by this fact that David partly believes him, and it seems like Sarah does, too.

“Okay.” She agrees.

“Okay.” Patrick winks at her, before standing back up to his full height and giving David a proud smile. Sarah sneaks in between he and Alexis, shifting just a little bit closer to the businessman, and David feels a small swell in his chest.

“Well,” Moira begins, clapping her hands together, “we’ve already eaten dinner for the night, but if you boys are hungry-,”

“Oh, no, we’re good, Mom,” David interrupts, waving a hand, “Patrick brought plenty of snacks on the road. Unless, of course, you’re still hungry?” He gives the brunette a questioning glance, to which he responds with a small frown and a shake of his head. 

“Alright, problem solved, then,” Moira finishes. She turns to Johnny, shrugging a shoulder, before she says that he and her are off to bed and they’ll see the others in the morning; and they go back up the stairs, David hearing a faint yawn from his father. 

“Can’t believe they didn’t even offer to help with our bags.”   
  
“You know how Mom and Dad are; half of the time, I believe they think that the butlers will get all of it,” Alexis laughs, and David does, too, but stops when Patrick looks at him incredulously. _ Butlers? _ he mouths, and David nods, chuckling. Patrick blinks rapidly before shaking his head and picking up his duffel bag once more.

“I think we’re headed to bed too, huh?” He asks, and David yawns in response, prompting a fond smile from his business partner. 

“Seems like everyone is,” Alexis chimes in, adjusting Sarah on her hip, and they exchange sleepy goodbyes before the others go up the stairs and David and Patrick go off to the right. 

David’s room had always been on the first floor, much to his enjoyment. It was colder down there in the summer, and it provided him with a tad bit of privacy from his family, and he could also sneak midnight snacks in the kitchen without his parents hearing too much. It was parallel to the living room, the only entrance a wooden door beside the TV, and when David creaks it open, a wave of nostalgia crashes over him. The walls are dark blue, and the carpet is white, with glow-in-the-dark stars pasted on the ceiling and the firefly lamp by his bedside still flickering. David is too busy basking in his old childhood room that he doesn’t realize the most mortifying part…

That there’s only one bed.

“Oh, no,” he breathes, stepping forward to run a hand over the constellation-speckled sheets, “we didn’t pack the air mattress, did we?” 

Patrick shakes his head silently, lips pressed together in a thin line, and the air begins to thicken once more. 

“It’ll be fine,” David says nervously, “I can steal some blankets from the closet just outside, and I’ll make a bed on the floor, and-,”  


“No, no, I couldn’t let you do that,” Patrick interjects, waving it off, “we can share. It won’t be a big deal, right? I don’t smell _ that _ bad,” he laughs, and David forces himself to laugh along with him. Patrick did _ not _ smell bad; in fact, it was quite the opposite, and it was going to drive David fucking crazy. But Patrick is leaving him no room for argument, dropping his bag and fishing his pajamas out of it before padding into the adjacent bathroom and locking the door with a click.

And now David was having a gay crisis.

He does everything he can to take his mind off of sleeping in the same bed as Patrick; he straightens out the curtains, adjusts the nightstand and then brushes off the invisible dust on it, and inspects every corner for spiderwebs until the bathroom door creaks open and Patrick walks out. He looks idiotically handsome, with his sleepy eyes and pink _ Hello Kitty _ pajama pants that he’d gotten from Walmart for three and a half dollars; David knew so because Patrick had bragged about them the day after. He smiles at David, and David smiles back, letting the other get into the twin-sized mattress as he went into the bathroom to change.

He takes his sweet time getting into his nightshirt and pants, a matching blue set that his mother had bought him when he moved, and brushes his teeth without ever breaking eye contact with his reflection.  _ I am going to be fine, _ he kept repeating in his head, sighing when he could stall no more and he put his toothbrush back in his kit, bracing himself against the counter.  _ And if I’m not, Patrick’s there. _ But Jesus fuck, that wasn’t helping.

He exits the bathroom, flicking off the light switch, and finds the room already dark. He doesn’t hear the even breathing of his business partner, so he assumes Patrick is not asleep, and goes to the other side of the bed quietly. He makes quick work of tucking himself into the star-ridden sheets, involuntarily tensing up at the heat emanating from beside him, before he wills himself to relax and enjoy curling into the pillow.

There are a few beats of silence before the bed creaks, and Patrick’s turning to face David. 

“Your family’s pretty nice,” he says softly, and David shifts.

“Yeah, somewhat. They can get a whole lot worse,” he replies, and Patrick snickers. 

“I hope I don’t see the day. Sarah’s really cute; did I tell you I’m a princess now?”

David can’t stop the laughter that bubbles out of his chest at Patrick’s genuinely excited tone. “Congratulations,” he giggles, “do I have to treat you like royalty?” Patrick hums, pretending to ponder David’s statement, before nodding in the darkness. 

“It would be much appreciated,” he responds, voice much lower and dripping with sleep, and David hopes to whatever higher power there was that Patrick didn’t hear his swallow.

They lay facing each other for what feels like an eternity, tension knotting in David’s stomach, and as his eyes start to adjust, he can make out Patrick’s pretty features; his soft eyelashes, the curve of his cheekbone, his fuzzy hair. It’s so quiet and surreal, David’s almost sure he could stay there forever, but to his dismay, nothing can last, and Patrick turns over, sighing softly.

“Goodnight, David,” he murmurs, and David calls back an equally soft, “goodnight, Patrick.” He, too, turns over, and as he does, he only has one thought;

He’s going to be dead by the end of the holiday.


	3. of antiques and artistry

It was warm.

Sunlight streamed in through an opening in the curtains, illuminating the room in soft morning light. It was silent, save for the occasional whistle of wind, but David paid it no true mind; he was comfortable inside of his bed, warm and cozy, and he further solidifies this fact by burrowing into his pillow and grinning. A safe kind of happiness settles into his chest, one spurred on by the fact that he was sleeping in his childhood bed, spending the holiday with his slightly neurotic family, and honestly? He was fine.

But good god, he was warm.

Like, almost uncomfortably so? Surprising, because it was the dead of winter in New York, but he wasn’t exactly complaining; he would rather be warm than cold. He doesn’t remember turning the thermostat up any in the middle of the night, but perhaps Alexis had? David shifts, trying to find a colder spot on the bed he lay in, but he stops _ dead _ when he realizes something is _ holding _ him.

Then, last night floods back to him, and he’s a hell of a lot warmer.

He cracks a hesitant eye open, blinks until he adjusts to the brighter surroundings, and then slowly, _ carefully _ peers down into his arms. He sucks in an involuntary breath when all he sees is Patrick, his toned arms wrapped around David’s middle and chin tucked over David’s neck. He’s clinging to the other like a goddamn lifeline, and everywhere Patrick was touching, David felt as though he was alight. 

He needed to get out of here, now. He needed to get away from this bed and away from Patrick before he did something stupid and ruined the entire vacation for them both. But, as he sinks a little further into the bed and thus into Patrick’s arms, his worries seem to fall behind, instead overpowered by his soft snoring and incoherent mumbles as he shifts closer. As much as he knows he shouldn’t, he nuzzles into the other’s closely cropped hair, sighing inaudibly and drifting back to slumber.

The next time David wakes, he does with a jolt, and curses under his breath when Patrick begins to stir. Fuck, he needs to get away immediately, before Patrick wakes up completely and sees them… like this. Above all, he doesn’t want Patrick to be angry at him; for pushing limits or taking advantage of him or anything of that sort. David’s so caught up in his mild panic that he doesn’t smell the bacon nor hear the footsteps rapidly approaching their door from the outside.

He’s _ just _ freeing his arms when three sharp knocks sound at the wooden entrance, and he stops his attempts from escaping the prison of limbs immediately. He hears a lilting, “David!” before the door fucking _ opens _ and Alexis, the little shit that she is, waltzes in. She’s clearly oblivious to the predicament her brother is in, as evident from the breezy look on her face, and he curses the higher powers for his terrible luck.

“Are you still aslee- oh!” Her eyes widen as she takes in the full extent of the situation, David still holding the now half-awake Patrick’s hip, and Alexis’s expression of surprise melts into a sly one. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” she teases, sticking her tongue out and pointing a finger in their direction, “just wanted to let you know that breakfast is almost ready, but you two seem busy, so…”

She gives them a mortifying salute to seal David’s coffin and closes the door to his sepia-toned tomb, leaving he and his fake boyfriend in suffocating silence. Patrick is staring at him, mouth slightly agape before he pulls his arms from David’s waist and winces. 

“Sorry about that,” he says quickly, a humorless laugh following his words. The other shakes his head and presses his lips together, the electricity crackling on the thigh Patrick touched making it hard to be coherent. His eyes are still worried, as if _ he _ was the one in the wrong, and David wanted nothing more than to kiss the upset look off of his face.

“It’s alright,” he finally replies, giving Patrick a tight-lipped smile, and to both his relief and dismay, they fully separate to opposite ends of the tiny bed. Patrick yawns, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and he sits up, stretching his back. 

“Y’know, for a twin bed, that was really comfortable,” he comments, finally meeting David’s gaze to smile. God, it was brighter than the sun, and it made him feel just as satisfied.

“I’m glad to hear it,” David grins back, patting the dark blue duvet cover affectionately. Patrick nods quickly in recognition before sitting up, groaning softly with the exertion, and outstretching a hand to the still-covered man below him. 

“You gonna come to breakfast, or do you want me to bring you something?” Patrick asks, and David whines into his pillow. He doesn’t notice the way his business partner shifts at the noise, soft pink flushing his cheeks, and in turn continues, “I don’t _ wanna _ .”

Patrick laughs, patting his shoulder gently. “I think you should,” he counters softly, “you know they’re going to want to talk to you at some point, yeah? Best get it over with.” David peers up from his pillow just to glare at the other man, who stifles a laugh in response. 

“I hate that you’re right,” he grumbles, turning over to slowly sit up and get off the rickety bed.

Patrick follows suit, yawning once more, and they both sleepily trod to the door, David swinging it open to let them both walk through. The living room is filled with the enticing smell of toast and crackle of bacon, and their senses lead them to the kitchen where most of the family already reside.

Alexis is sitting on the counter, twirling her hair between her fingertips and checking something on her phone. Johnny is leaned against the counter, sipping at a cup of coffee, and Moira is deftly putting the freshly cooked bacon onto a paper towel-covered plate. It’s quiet, dust filtering in through the window light, and it reminds David of holidays years ago.

At their entrance, Alexis looks up and smiles coyly. “Good morning, sleepyheads,” she teases, winking, and David automatically feels his cheeks warm. “Good morning to you, too,” he responds, while Patrick gives a little wave, and this gains the attention of the other two people in the room.

“Good day, you both!” Moira exclaims, drying the grease off of the bacon before turning and giving them a red-lipped smile. Even in the early morning, his mother had a full face of makeup, and it was one of the reasons David admired her so. She takes the bacon into the dining room, swatting Alexis’s hand away when she tries to steal a piece. 

“Breakfast is ready!” The woman calls from the left, and as if on cue, they all stop slouching and begin to move toward the smell of food.

“Hey, by the way,” Alexis starts, tapping David on the arm, “we’re going shopping today.” He smiles, crossing his arms, and quirks an eyebrow in return. 

“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but did I even get a choice?” God, he missed this; bantering back and forth with his sister. They were usually too busy to ever act like real siblings, especially over the phone, and David had forgotten how nice it was to have someone to threaten to kill all the time.

“Nope!” She chimes, booping him on the nose, and he snorts as his face scrunches up. “We haven’t hung out in so _ loooong, _ ” Alexis whines, as if David even needs convincing, and taps her foot impatiently. 

“Fine, fine,” he gives in, “but only because I still need to buy you a gift anyway.” At this, she shoves him forward, saying a very amused “fuck you!” before giggling violently.

“Language!” Moira calls, as they walk into the wafting dining room, “you’re lucky Sarah is still asleep. Wouldn’t want her repeating that in school.” Alexis rolls her eyes, but relents, sitting down in one of the elegant dining chairs and grabbing a paper plate from the stack.

It’s oddly quiet as they fill their plates, Moira, Johnny and Alexis looking at each other like they knew something David and Patrick didn’t, and it takes a few beats after they start eating for Moira to ask the first question, which was: 

“So, how long have you two been together?”   
  
She has her interrogation look on her face: the one she always seems to get when she’s trying to grill her kids or husband for answers. Her eyes are narrowed, arms folded neatly on the table, and David knows for a fact that he and Patrick couldn’t mess this up.

And, of course, because they’re fools, they do.

“Six months.” 

“A year.” 

They say at the same time, and everyone else at the table looks at them like they’re crazy. David tenses up instantly, floundering for words, when Patrick saves him once more. “Well, we’ve technically been together for six months,” he explains, “but I confessed to David a year ago.” Patrick smiles at said man, slightly shy. “It took him a little while to come around.”   
  
Moira’s face softens, and she cooes at that. “How sweet,” she comments, and then under her breath, “six months!” David feels a twinge of guilt at that; he always stood by immediately his family about a relationship, and now here he was, a fucking liar to his parents, his sister, and even himself.

“Where did you guys meet?” Alexis shoots, her own expression, not completely satisfied. David is fully convinced he’s an idiot; he’s forgotten everything that he and Patrick had discussed the previous evening, and now here he was, blanking on every question and making Patrick do all of the work. God, he was a shitty boyfriend.

“We met when he was just starting his business,” Patrick begins, “about five years ago. He needed some paperwork done for his store, and I was the only one in my… firm that was capable.” As David listened, he realized with growing clarity that this story was actually _ true _ ; it was how they’d legitimately met. 

“So he told me about his company; or tried to, at least. In the end, I sent him home with the papers and my business card. After about a day, he left a shitload of voicemails, and from that, I was able to piece together the business and fill out the forms.”   
  
This, too, David remembered. He’d just been sitting in his nearly-empty store, alone, and gave the business phone, a ring. The voicemail answering machine was silly, a little quip in Patrick’s tone about not being found for identity theft before it beeped and David could talk. There, the long chain of voicemails had started; and David likes to think that because of tomfoolery, they were the friends that they were now.

“I liked the idea, so I invested in it, quit my job and became a co-owner. David and I got along pretty well, and I considered him my friend until about four months in, when I realized that I was gaining feelings for him.” Patrick blushes at this, tracing the grain of the wooden dining table, and David balks. He knew it wasn’t real; it couldn’t be, but god, just thinking about the hypothetical that Patrick had been in love with him from the start made butterflies erupt in his stomach.

“But I didn’t want to scare him, so I kept it to myself and carried on. That is, until a year ago,” at this, Patrick smiles and gently interlaces their fingers together. Damn, he was a good actor. 

“I came out to him and told him I had feelings for him. I said he could tell me when he was ready, and he said that he _ did _ like me back, he was just scared of being in a relationship and he needed. Cue the longest six months of my life.”   
  
He laughs after this, and a quiet ripple went through the table, but it was humorless. It was no secret to David’s family that he had been burned by past lovers, and he could tell that his fictional reaction to Patrick’s confession seemed entirely plausible. It hurt to know that, but hey, at least they were buying it.

“But at the end of those six months, he came to me, said that he wanted to try a relationship, and here we are,” Patrick finishes squeezing David’s hand from where it lay intertwined with his, and David can see his mother slightly getting slightly misty-eyed. Alexis is smiling a genuine pink-lipped smile, with her blue eyes looking proudly at David. His father incredulous, clapping for a few beats before saying, “I’m glad you boys found each other. You both deserve happiness, and I’m so thrilled you got it.”

“That we did, Mr. Rose, that we did,” Patrick replies, though he’s not looking at Johnny. He’s looking at David; so earnestly his heart aches, and he regrets taking someone who was so good at acting. He should’ve known this would happen; that he’d start believing Patrick actually liked him. He just had to keep remembering that his heart would be broken in a week.

They chatter indistinctly after that, Patrick offering kind compliments to Moira for her delicious eggs and Alexis and Johnny halfway starting a food fight when she starts throwing bacon in her father’s direction. It’s oddly reminiscent of a simpler time, when they were still kids, except now Patrick was there and that he had nothing against.

They finish breakfast not long after that, a sleepy Ted and Sarah eating at the counter as Alexis washes pots and pans, and as David leans on the island, picking at the pine decoration that lays in the middle with Patrick at his side, laughing at an offhanded comment, he thinks just briefly that everything might turn out okay.

* * *

“Oh, my god! I haven’t been in Naples in so long!”

Alexis is viewing all of the mediocre architecture with wide eyes, a childish grin on her face. David’s a little in awe, too; he’s surprised the tiny town has kept it charm with potholed roads and bare crate murdles dotting the sidewalks. Only he and Alexis decided to go, opting for some good ol’ sibling bonding time when they (meaning everyone else) relaxed at home. Patrick hadn’t been put out; quite the opposite, actually, grinning as he was pulled by the hand into Sarah’s “palace”.

David just hoped he didn’t suffocate to death inside of a tutu.

They’d parked on the outskirts of town, both siblings aware of the dangers of parallel parking on the inside, and they’d made their way to the Main Street. Their favorite lunch place sat near the end, a coffee house named _ Rooster’s _ that they used to always go to as children, and they’d decided to take their time shopping down the road before they reached the tavern.

“Look how cute this place is! And ice cream shop is still there,” she cooes, smiling sadly, and David feels that same bittersweetness in his chest. As much as he loved this town, it was a reminder that he had grown up. He missed those days, when he didn’t have to worry or work, and he hopes that he can get that carefree feeling back.

“So, should we just… walk until something catches our eye?” David asks, and Alexis hesitates before nodding. 

“I don’t remember much about here,” she admits, as they start walking, “been a while since I’ve hit this town.” They both laugh, remembering the time when Alexis had gone out for the night and hadn’t come back. The rest of the Roses had gone out to find her and discovered her asleep in a flower bed. After that, she hadn’t been allowed outside for the rest of the trip.

They talk languidly as they walk, Alexis detailing David about the time Ted had brought in Sarah to work and the toddler had markered up a client’s dog. She seems so fond while telling it, giggling to herself, and that makes David enjoy it all the more. She’s just in the middle of telling him how shocked the client was when she stops, turning to look up at the turquoise colored store beside them.

“David, holy shit, _ look!” _

“We are not going inside.”

“We’re totally going inside!” Alexis exclaims, dragging David into the peeling store named _ Lucy’s Antiques. _ It smells like mothballs and dust, plastic covered chairs and cheap chinaware lining the room from wall to wall. There’s a wood and glass cabinet showcasing jewelry in the middle, with curled dressers holding painting and coasters laying a cluttered path. Everything hurt David’s eyes, and Alexis was enchanted.

“Aw, look at this little rocking chair!” She points out, experimentally tipping it and quickly removing her hands when one of the eyes falls off.Her eyes widen, and she looks at David nervously when they both erupt into laughter. They’re quickly quieted by the old lady behind the register, who shushes them with angry look on her face, and stifling their laughter becomes _ that _ much harder.

They move onto the desks, which all look like they were used by World War II radio operators, they were so old. 

“I think they were trying to cover up the stains with these… goodies,” David comments, picking up a coaster with distaste before snorting at the writing on it. Alexis walks over to him, peering over his shoulders to get a look at the cursive, which says, “I love eating my kids and dog.” She proceeds to wheeze into his shoulder, laughing silently.

The makes of the coasters clearly forgot the commas, providing a fatal error, which is probably why they’d ended up in store like this. 

“This seems like this should be in a thrift store, not in an antique shop.” Alexis laughs harder, swatting his arm as she does so, managing out a “shh, that’s disrespectful!” before dissolving into another fit of laughter.

After the coaster incident, they make their way over to the art sections, where they kindly admire the pictures of cows in fields. It seemed as though elders had an affinity for acrylic livestock, so David offers to buy one for their parents, to which Alexis giggles and says that their mother would insist that she could paint it better. David makes an excuse to use the bathroom following that, leaving Alexis to gaze at the yellow grass while he does his business; but he detours from the lavatory to the jewelry counter, where a young woman sits.

“Hi,” David greets in a whisper, “I need a necklace for my niece. You wouldn’t happen to have any jewelry _ Sarah _ related?”

The woman ponders for a second, getting off of her stool to examine the items on display before making a soft “a-ha!” noise and opening the case to take out a simplistic gold chain. “It’s doesn’t say Sarah, but it does have an S, and it doesn’t have any gems so she can wear it every day,” she offers, holding it up for David to see, and immediately loves it. “You have a good eye,” he advises, making the woman smile, “I’ll take it.”   
  
It’s cheaper than expected, and he leaves with the necklace and her business card in his pocket. He finds Alexis peeking at the mugs, trying to find a “World’s Best Dad” one for Ted. She does so, squealing with delight when she does, and they make quick work of purchasing it and leaving the blast to the past. “I think he’ll like it,” Alexis murmurs, shaking the paper bag holding said mug, and David can tell she’s pleased. And who wouldn’t be, getting a gift for their significant other? He suddenly feels a little nervous; maybe he should’ve gotten a present for Patrick…

They walk in relative silence to _ Rooster’s _ , both soaking in the Christmas themed decorations that adorn the town around them. Strings of garland float through bare tree branches, Christmas lights blink from the windows of shops, and blow up figures lay on the storefronts. It’s a little more magical than David would care to admit, and he’s so caught up in looking at everything that they almost pass by the cafe.

“I’m not even that hungry,” David laughs, holding the door open for his sister, and in return, she rolls her eyes. “Neither am I, but you have to admit that no matter how full you are, you always have room for their raspberry tarts.” David nods in agreement at this, skin prickling with the sensation of newfound heat. The coffee shop is painted maroon, with dark trim and yellow lighting, and it feels more like a dive bar than a cafe. But the food is amazing, and David isn’t complaining.

They step up to the counter, and are immediately pleased with their barista. “Twyla!” Alexis exclaims, leaning over the low counter to give the woman a hug. She smiles in return, squeezing back tightly and saying an equally happy, “Alexis! So good to see you!” before turning to David and viewing him with mild shock.

“It’s been so long,” she says incredulously, like she isn’t sure David is even there, “you look great!” David gives her a close-lipped smile, a polite one that he uses for most of the general public, even though Twyla was a good friend of theirs. She’d worked at the coffee shop for as long as the siblings had visited, and she always attended the Christmas parties, as well. 

“You, too. Glad to see you’ve still got this place under control,” he quips, prompting a laugh from her, and he knows his duty is done.

The two siblings order the same thing (a cappuccino and a raspberry tart) before paying, collecting their goods and sitting down. Alexis now seems a little more fidgety; she refuses to meet his eyes, instead taking valiant interest in her foam drink. David doesn’t mind, opting for eating his pastry in silence, though he does briefly worry about what is keeping Alexis so quiet. She seemed perfectly fine just a few moments ago; did David do something wrong so fast?

He didn’t have to wait long for his answer. As Alexis turned her own raspberry tart in her hand, she says casually, “you know, giving someone a box of sweets is a good way to confess to someone.” At this, David quirks an eyebrow, wiping his mouth with a paper napkin. “Why do you say that? I mean, you’re right, obviously, but.” Alexis looks at him pointedly, like he’s playing dumb, and David shakes his head in confusion.

“David, I’m your _ sister,” _ she says, “I know you and Patrick aren’t really together.”   
  
He goes cold, every thought in his mind coming to a screeching halt. There was no possible _ way _ she could’ve known; as far as he knew, they had been keeping up their rouse perfectly, Patrick even _ more _ so. Shit, he himself halfway believed it, and he was in on the entire thing. No; Alexis was perceptive, but not that much so - she was probably just trying to get him to admit that he was lying.

“Yes, we are-,”

“No, you’re not. I can tell, yeah? You literally leaped out of bed when I caught you guys, and usually you’d just rub it in my face.”

Shit, she did know.

“Alright, fine,” David sighs in defeat, “you got me. No, Patrick and I… aren’t together.” He’s surprised that his confession doesn’t spawn a triumphant look on Alexis’s face. Usually she’d be pleased with her investigative skills, but instead she just seems resigned. “That’s what I thought,” she sighs, blue eyes trained on her treat, “but good job for finding someone on such short notice.”

“Yeah, I _ was _ lucky. Nice of Patrick to offer in the first place,” he laughs, but then another, much scarier thought pops into his brain and he can’t help but ask, “you aren’t going to tell Mom and Dad, are you?”

Alexis shakes her head, and relief immediately floods through him. “It’s not my job to,” she confirms, “although I’m hoping that you won’t need to at all.” David hums, interested in anywhere else but his sister’s calculating eyes; now he _ was _ playing dumb. “What do you mean?”

“You know exactly what I mean, dipshit.”

Of course David did, but there was no way in hell he was doing it, so he continues to feign blissful ignorance and lets his sister do the talking. Just because he had to participate in the conversation doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“Augh, you’re so difficult sometimes, David!” Alexis exclaims, pouting out her lips. “I’m saying that you should confess to him. I know you’ve had feelings for him for, like, ever, and you two would be so good together! He’s _ right _ for you, David,” she finishes softly, and the man’s heart aches. 

“Maybe he is,” he responds quietly, “but there’s no way he likes me back.”

Alexis fixes him with a steely gaze, one he can’t look away from. “Yes, he does,” she says firmly, like she completely believes it, and David huffs out a laugh. Patrick did have her fooled, in a way; he had _ all _ of them joshed, and he didn’t even realize it. “No, he doesn’t,” and this time, he knows he’s right.

Patrick could do so much better than him. He was insecure in the worst of ways, coming off as confident and extra and _ annoying; _ he deserved someone who would listen to him half the time, who took him seriously, and who didn’t hate themselves so damn much sometimes.

“How do you know?” Alexis’s sharp statement cuts through his cloudy mind, and he reiterates what he’d just been thinking. She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “That’s just the things you’re hung up on about yourself,” she corrects, “that doesn’t mean he won’t love you after all of that. We’re our harshest critics; you and I know that better than most.”

He hated that his sister was right. Both of the siblings were hard on themselves, raised by their parents to be perfectionists in every way; and it was never something they could help. Because of this, they both had malevolent insecurities; ones that threatened to send them overboard if they didn’t get them under control, and David had always had the most trouble with them. 

“I… don’t,” he admits, and _ now _ Alexis looks slightly triumphant. “I only want what’s best for you,” she insists, getting up from her chair and flipping a lock of hair behind her shoulder, “so… I am going to buy you a box of those raspberry tarts and you _ will _ give them to him and profess your undying love.” 

She leaves him no room for argument, speedily going up to the counter and smiling at Twyla, and this leaves him staring at his fingers.

His sister really did want what was best for him. Alexis had always been there for him, despite their many petty fights, and she’d always stood up to those he could not. He couldn’t help but think that he hadn’t done that much for her; there was so much he could’ve given her, so much of his time and energy, and yet he’d been selfish and moved out before they could even have a _ chance _ of knowing each other as people and not siblings. Of course, they did, and they got along, but he can’t stop the nagging feeling that occurs when he knows that he could’ve done better.

She returns a couple beats later with a box of pastries and a broad smile, but it dissipates when she realizes that David isn’t returning it. “Are you nervous?” She prompts, leaning closer to pat her brothers hand, and he hesitates before nodding slowly. “That,” he laughs, “and…” he then looks up at her, all of the apologies that had built up over the years clattering around in his mind.

“I’m sorry,” he said faintly, looking down, but he sees Alexis’s face soften anyway. “For what?” she murmurs back, and he sighs, shaking his head. 

“Everything,” he laughs humorlessly, “everything. For not being a good brother all the time, for not being there for you, for not calling all the time, for not-,”

“Hey,” she interrupts, “it’s okay. I… I will admit that you were selfish, and sometimes still are,” David gives her a deadpan look, and she giggles, “but you’re trying your best. You’re the best and only brother I’ve got, and I’ll love you no matter what.”   
  
This is further solidified by the fact that she leans over the table, wrapping her brother into a hug, but gets raspberry jam on her shirt. To David’s surprise, however, she just laughs, saying it was “worth it for the moment” and that she had washed out tougher stains for her daughter anyway.

“I wasn’t even there _ for _ Sarah’s growing up,” he says, when they leave and begin walking around the town once more, and Alexis sighs. “That’s true, and I wish you would’ve been. She’s been a goddamn pleasure to watch,” she murmurs fondly. David knows this is true, and vows to himself that he’ll try and at least visit Alexis more. It was the least he could do for her and her family. 

Though he’d been a shitty brother before, he wasn’t now; and he had no one to prove that to anymore, besides himself.

* * *

After another hour and a half of shopping around the road, they go home, singing _ Beyonce _ in the car before reaching the lake house beneath the setting sun. It was only three in the afternoon, and the slow nights were one of David’s least favorite parts about the wintertime. The forest around them is perfectly still, quiet without the chatter of animals, and David would’ve stayed to admire it if it hadn’t been so cold.

He and Alexis enter the warm house quietly, knowing well that it was their parent’s nap time, and they set down their gifts in the foyer along with their wintry shoes. The house, too, is quiet, save for the TV that they can hear faintly from the living room playing Christmas carols. Alexis pats the brown bag holding Ted’s mug affectionately, and David is so bold as to place a kiss onto the box that contains Patrick’s gift, earning a coy smile from his sister.

“You’re gonna do it,” she says, once he places it down onto the coffee table, and he sighs before nodding once. She brushes some fuzz off of his sweater, patting his shoulder affectionately, and something rushes over David; a violent, fond feeling, one he’s only ever felt for his sister.

So he acts on it, wrapping her up in a tight hug, and he feels her pause before quickly hugging him back. “Thank you,” he whispers into her shoulder, though _ what _ he’s thanking her _ for, _ he isn’t completely sure. She seems to understand, though, squeezing him tightly before letting go and grinning brightly. 

“Anytime,” she promises, before they fully split and she goes into the living room to meet her husband. 

David supposes he should find his own.

So he leaps up the stairs, taking two at a time, in search for the man who’s made him so happy already. He pokes around the left side of the second floor, smiling when he sees his parents snoozing away in their shared bedroom, but to no avail; he’s about to run back down the stairs to search the patio when he hears loud laughter coming from the right, and he smiles. Of course, they’re in Sarah’s playroom, although David is a little bit shocked that Patrick can stand children that long.

David smiles to himself, adjusting his sweater before knocking a playful rhythm on the door. “Who is it?” a tiny, cheerful voice asks, and David’s smile can’t help but broaden. He cracks open the door, peeking his head through the newfound opening, and tries desperately to stifle his laughter.

Sarah is perched on a throne made of foam and fabric, Elmo printed on the back, wearing the same princess dress and tiara she’d bedazzled herself in the night before. Patrick, on the other hand, is wearing a goddamn tutu on his head, children’s makeup plastered on his face, and he’s holding the most miniature teacup David’s ever seen. But he gives David a genuine smile, like he’s really enjoying being dressed in B grade drag, and his heart is aflutter.

“No, no!” Sarah exclaims, jumping up from her chair and running to the door, trying in vain to push it shut. “Only princesses are allowed!”

David fake pouts, using a little more strength than necessary to keep the entrance open, and asks forlornly, “but aren’t I a princess, too?”

Sarah remains indignant, crossing her arms and shaking her head, and David’s about to let it go and retreat when Patrick laughs and gets up, placing a gentle hand onto the little girl’s shoulder. “He may not be a princess, but he is my prince,” he offers, winking at David before Sarah ponders this and nods.

“Then… you are allowed,” she says matter-of-factly, opening the door wide enough for David to step through, and then she goes back to her throne to sit in it primly. _ She really is her mother’s child, _ David thinks, stepping onto the carpet next to Patrick. He looks back up at his business partner’s face and grins.

“Do I look pretty?” Patrick asks, fluttering his eyelashes exaggeratedly.

David resists the urge to say a very honest _ always _ and instead opts for an amused “absolutely dashing.” It may have been the copious amount of glitter on the man’s face messing with David’s eyes, but he could’ve sworn that Patrick had blushed.

“How was shopping?” He whisper-asks as they make their way back to the small tea table. Now it’s David’s turn to flush, waving a hand. “Enlightening,” he settles on, and Patrick nods, grinning. “I’m glad you had fun,” he says, almost knowingly, and David would’ve asked what he meant if Sarah hadn’t gained their attention.

“Now, if we shall resume our tea party, Prince and Princess Rose,” she says, and both of the men in question blush once more. “Yes, of course, Princess Sarah,” Patrick tips his head in respect, and the young child takes the teapot and fills three teacups with imaginary liquid.

“There’s nothing in he-,”

“Shh, David, we mustn't speak out of turn,” Patrick whispers, putting his free hand onto David’s thigh to quiet him, and the dark-haired man tries not to shift at the touch. “But there’s no real-,” “Enjoy the moment,” Patrick then sing-songs, giving him a pointed look, and David gives in.

They sip at empty air, David earning a grateful smile from Patrick when he comments on how lovely the tea is. Sarah says a gracious thank you, and with a flourish only the Roses have perfected, pulls out three Strawberry Shortcake coloring books.

“Prince David, you have arrived just in time for our ceremonial coloring session.” The girl pronounces _ ceremonial _ incorrectly, and the other two people present have to stifle their endeared smiles.

“Thank you for having me, Princess Sarah,” David replies, “I couldn’t think of a better way to spend my afternoon.” At this, the child in question becomes bashful, “aww well”-ing before pulling the crayons from below the table. “Since I was the first princess, I get my own crayon box. And since you are married, you get to share one.” She pushes the other over to Patrick and David, the latter of which sputters while the former just laughs. 

“And also because I only have two,” she giggles, and the two men grin, amused by her antics.

As they color with the surprisingly pristine crayons, David can’t help but think that this was what he’d been missing out on when he wasn’t around for most of Sarah’s life. Sure, they still called every week and shared stories of her school friends and endeavors, but it didn’t amount to real, quality time; a voice in the back of David’s head said he didn’t deserve to be her favorite uncle. He could’ve watched a child grow up in front of him, and yet he’d buried himself in his work - because of this trip, he was starting to realize that he did that a lot more than he thought.

They color for much longer than David believed they would’ve. Sarah had neatly colored four different Strawberry Shortcake drawings, all of the same character but in different poses, and David had only finished two (granted, his book was a little bit more detailed.) Patrick, on the other hand, had opted for going into the back of the book and drawing something of his own; what David realized, after he’d finished laughing his ass off, was a self-portrait. 

They’re just about finishing up when Alexis knocks on the door, slowly opening it to peer through and smile. Sarah lets out a very loud cry of “mommy!” before leaping up from her throne and into her mother’s arms, who swings her around while exclaiming out an equally loud “baby!” It’s a sweet sight, his sister holding her daughter, and David wished very briefly that he’d had his phone camera.

“Looks like you three had fun,” she chimes, resting Sarah on her hip, and the two men (still sitting, mind you) nod vigorously. “Sarah is quite the artist,” Patrick laughs, getting up with a groan and offering a hand to David, who takes it gratefully to haul himself up. Alexis gives him a knowing look, smiling with her lips pressed together, and David resists the urge to stare back.

“That she is,” Alexis agrees, and she then turns to look at Patrick, to which she cannot help the laughter that escapes her. “I see she had some fun with your face,” she giggles, and Patrick grins, embarrassed. “She did… I’m glad she enjoyed herself, even though it cost some of my dignity,” he chuckles in response, and Alexis offers him a kind smile. 

“Really, I appreciate it,” she murmurs, and on her way out, she pauses. “By the way, dinner is almost ready, yeah? Though you might want to wash that off before Moira sees you,” she teases, before exiting completely and walking down the stairs with Sarah still in her arms.

The two men looked at each other, and Patrick snorts. “Alright, David, you’re gonna have to help me get this off. I don’t think I’ve ever had makeup on my face, like, ever.”   
  
David laughs as well, leading them both out of the room and down the same stairs. In all honesty, Patrick did still look pretty with children’s makeup on; maybe Sarah had a future in makeup artistry. The hot pink lipstick really did work wonders for his business partner’s skin tone.

They make quick work of speeding past the living room and into their now-shared bedroom, snickering when Moira almost spots them sneaking past the kitchen, and enter the adjacent bathroom. Another perk of David taking the room downstairs; he had a private lavatory, one he could spend as much time in as he wanted. Younger him really was looking out for the older.

Patrick sits down on the lidded toilet, absently scrubbing at the blush on his cheeks, and David has to hide a smile as he fishes out the makeup wipes from his kit on the counter. “Lucky I brought these,” David quips, pulling a few from the packaging, and Patrick nods, biting his lip and smiling. “Yeah… didn’t know I’d be looking _ this _ great. Do you… do makeup?”

David thinks as he leans down to Patrick’s height, spreading one of the wipes over his hand. “I guess I used to? When my mom was an actress, I’d sometimes do her makeup before auditions, and I… maybe had a mini-phase in high school,” he says, an embarrassed flush creeping up his neck, but to his surprise, Patrick just laughs.

“Hey, I wish I had as much courage as you. You’ll have to do me sometime.”

David most definitely does _ not _ think about the different connotations regarding that sentence, and instead focuses on cleaning the plaster on Patrick’s face. Which, consequently, doesn’t help at all; because he’s awfully close, eyes gently shut and completely trusting David to do the job and not hurt him. His hair has shards of glitter in it, eyelashes fluttering against his pale cheeks, and David has to bite his lips to not mention how enchanting Patrick was. 

He won’t admit it, but he takes his time cleaning off Patrick’s face, both men laughing when David can't seem to get the neon blue eyeshadow away from the other man’s eyelids. Patrick looks beautiful still, face completely rid of any makeup whatsoever, and his expression seems so much purer when he smiles at David in thanks.

“Wow, I feel like a new man,” he chuckles, running his hands over his face, touching the newfound supple skin like it was the first time feeling anything like it. David had to admit that the makeup wipes, although they were used to clean off the pencil and powder, also exfoliated skin, and he told Patrick as much, who looked at him in surprise.

“I might have to start cleaning my face more…”

“I assure you, it’s totally worth it.”   
  
At this, Patrick smiles at him, fond. “Or maybe I’ll just leave it to you,” he murmurs, stepping infinitely closer and resting gentle hands onto David’s forearms. In that moment, David’s mind goes silent, the only thing registering being the buzz of warmth coming from Patrick’s touch and the soft look the man is giving him. Could it be happening? Could Patrick be kissing him? He feels himself lean a bit closer, both to the other and his touch, and it seems as though he does, too - they’re _ so close, _ all David needs to do is bridge the gap and-

“David! Patrick! Dinner’s ready!”   
  
And just like that, the moment is shattered, falling to their feet like broken glass. Patrick jumps away from him, hands curling in front of him like he’d been burned, and David swallows thickly. They stare at each other for a few beats, both of them looking like they were deer caught in headlights, before Patrick clears his throat and points toward the door. “I think we should, um, go eat,” he offers, voice cracking at the end of his sentence, and David nods curtly before they both leave in deafening silence.

* * *

Dinner was fine. The evening after was fine. The family was fine, he was fine.

David was shit at lying to himself.

The rest of the family was still in the kitchen, laughing and bustling around like it was second nature. Alexis and Patrick were washing the dishes, conversing amusedly, while Moira played with Sarah and Johnny and Ted talked around the counter. But instead of joining them, David was sitting in the den, staring at his hands and crossed legs as if it was the only thing he knew how to do.

Patrick had seemed fine over dinner, talking and smiling and sparing gentle glances at David every now and again, but the man could feel the tension still crackling between them after the… bathroom incident. He didn’t want Patrick to be upset with him, and he figured he wasn’t, but he was _ also _ a damn good actor and may have just been putting up a front for the rest of them. If David had learned anything from being Patrick’s business partner, it was that the brunette was excellent at hiding things.

After a few minutes of quiet surrounding him, the family rushes into the living room, still chatting loudly. He offers them a pained smile when they find him, and Alexis teases him for not helping with the dishes, although her gaze is a little more than pointed. He fires back, “Patrick offered, not me!” to her, and the look dissipates, but from her posture toward him, she still doesn't seem fully convinced that he’s okay. 

“Are you going to be staying and watching the Christmas movie with us, David?” Johnny asks, situating himself on the loveseat perched in the corner nearest to the fireplace, and David pauses before shaking his head. “I don’t think I will. Alexis wore me out with all that shopping,” he laughs, winking at his sister, and in return she sticks her tongue out at him playfully.

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna head up with David,” Patrick chimes in, stepping up next to his fake boyfriend and lacing their fingers together. David feels a rush of electricity burst up his arm, and it takes him everything to not let his arm twitch when Patrick squeezes gently. “We both had a long day.”   
  
“I’d say,” Moira chuckles, “you seemed to have a ball with Sarah.”   
  
“We sure did!” The little girl exclaims, pumping her fists in the air, and a ripple of laughter echoes through the rest of them. David and Patrick bid their goodnights, blushing violently when Johnny mentions to “not try anything frisky”, and are about to head to the bedroom just a few paces away when David spies the white box still balanced in the foyer.

“Oh, I got you something,” he says, letting go of the hand he hadn’t noticed he’d still been holding to lean down and grab it. Patrick’s expression is pleased, but also curious, his mouth curved down in a questioning glance that David wants to kiss immediately. “It’s good, I promise,” David assures, before they sneak past the living room once more (earning an eyebrow raise from Alexis) and into the adjacent bedroom.

As soon as Patrick walks in, David shuts the door, opening the box with a flourish. Patrick pauses, peering in, before his eyes light up and he gasped with surprise. “David, you… you didn’t have to do this, but thank you,” he says earnestly, voice completely genuine, and David can’t resist the urge to wrap the slightly shorter man into his arms.

“Of course I did,” he laughs into Patrick’s shoulder, “you’ve never lived until you’ve had these raspberry tarts.”

“Guess I’ve never lived, then,” Patrick replies, giggling, and David pulls away just so the other can take one and try it. He does so slowly, like it may hurt him if he goes too fast, and his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “Holy shit, this is fucking amazing,” he says incredulously, and proceeds to scarf the rest of the thing down, David unable to control the laughter that bursts out of him at his business partner’s demeanor.

“I’m glad you like it,” he smiles, and turns to sit down on the bed, stretching his legs out before him and resting the box in the middle. “I do! Thank you for thinking of me,” Patrick responds, sitting next to David with his legs crossed and hand once again in the box. 

“Well,” David laughs nervously, “it wasn’t exactly my idea. Alexis-,”   
  
“Shh,” Patrick murmurs, “don’t ruin this.”

_ This _ , David was unsure of, but if he was reading the situation correctly, the tension that they’d shared previously was back and completely apparent between them. Patrick looked so pretty in the lamplight, underneath the stars pasted on the ceiling above them and on top of the stars decorating the blanket beneath them, and David doesn’t say anything else for fear of breaking the thing between them once more.

They eat the pastries in silence, smiling at each other every now and again, and the box is empty idiotically fast. They both laugh quietly when David reaches in to find nothing there, and then Patrick is a little closer, shuffling beneath the sheets and placing the box onto his nightstand.    
  
“I really appreciated that, David,” he murmurs, gaze unwavering, and said man’s next breath is slightly shuddery. “You’re welcome,” he responds, equally soft, and before he knows it, Patrick is turning over, clicking the light off and nuzzling into his pillow.

David slips into the bed himself, refusing to let his arm curl around Patrick’s waist, and turns the other way, willing his mind to stop racing and let him sleep.

It doesn’t work.


	4. of markets and mistletoe

David knows it’s going to be a shitty day when he’s woken up by a bell.

His mother had purchased a one-foot bell from an antique auction when they (being he and Alexis) were kids, and had playfully (demandingly) used it as a dinner bell for the rest of the vacation before it found its final resting place on their kitchen wall. Moira had always claimed it would be useful sooner or later, and David was upset to find she hadn’t been wrong; apparent due to the fact that his mother was waking them all with it.

“What is that noise?” Patrick groans, rolling over to face David with a displeased expression. David tries not to focus too hard on the way the brunette leans into his shoulder.

“My mom,” David replies flatly, and Patrick chuckles incredulously into his pillow before peering up at the man next to him.

“Guess we better get up then, huh?” He asks, and David frowns. He’s comfortable in his bed, underneath the constellations, but he knows that if he doesn’t arise, he’ll get it from his mother. Patrick must notice him weighing his options, because he smiles, tapping David on the shoulder.

“Pick and choose your battles,” he singsongs, flipping the duvet away from him, “but I’m getting up. I will not face your mother’s wrath today.” He chuckles again when David manages out an “I hate you” before he, too, makes an escape from the pillowy prison.

Patrick opens the door to the bedroom, and both men inside automatically wince. The clanging is even louder, as Moira is standing boldly in the living room, shaking it with ungodly strength. Alexis and Ted are trudging down the stairs, scowls on both of their faces, and Johnny is peering out from the kitchen with his nightcap still on. David is at least glad to see that he wasn’t the only one experiencing a rude awakening.

Once she sees that she has gained everyone’s attention (including Sarah, who was clutching onto her mother’s hand, annoyed) she sets the bell down, hands now on her hips.

“We have work to do, family! This house has to look like the South Pole before the end of the night,” she exclaims, already insistent, and David sighs inwardly. “North Pole, Mom, and don’t burn yourself out.”

“Burn myself _out_ , David? The only thing that may burn itself out is the Christmas lights.” 

Moria does, in fact, burn herself out.

It had been a few hours in, with the entire family at work. David and Alexis had been making popcorn and cranberry chains (awfully traditional for his taste, but okay) and Patrick, along with Sarah, was making paper snowflakes to hang from the tops of windows. They could hear Johnny out in the hall, balanced on a ladder and nailing Christmas lights to the stairs, sucking in a breath when it shakes, and everything seems as though its going smoothly when a loud cry erupts from the living room.

Both David and Alexis come tearing out of the kitchen, knowing how their mother got when she was stressed. Alexis sits down beside her, rubbing her shoulders, and David very smoothly asks what’s the matter.

“It’s Deborah,” she sighs, “she’s not bringing the roast ham. But she _is_ bringing Josh.” David instantly recoils at the mention of their very homophobic cousin. Most of their family was completely tolerant; Deborah included. But for some reason, her son was disgustingly offensive, and no member of the Roses wanted him around. Josh, although David hadn’t really remembered him until now, was also one of the reasons David hadn’t been so keen on coming.

“So!” Moira exclaims, gaining the sibling’s attention once more, “I have taken it upon myself to make the ham. No Christmas dinner is complete without a roast!” Alexis and David share a look, before she turns to amend their aching mother.

“That’s subjective, Mom,” she offers, “but if it takes some weight off your shoulders, David and I can go pick up the ingredients, yeah? We’ll be back in a jiff.”  
  
_“Jiff?_ What are you, Alexis, a country girl?”

“Jiff. Take it or leave it, Mom,” she says sternly, and Moira mulls it over before nodding. “Go ahead. I’ll keep calling the rest of the family, and if we need more… shit, then I’ll text you.” The two of them nod, Alexis getting up from her seat on the couch, when Moira “oh’s” once more. “Bring Patrick,” she insists, “that sweet little button face will keep you two out of trouble.”

David’s breath hitches at the mere _mention_ of his business partner’s name, and Alexis smirks. “I don’t think we need to,” David laughs nervously, “he’s busy making decorations with Sarah, I don’t want to bother hi-,”

“No, no, we should bring him!” Alexis interjects, giving David no time to object; she’s already sprinting to the dining room. David winces as he hears his sister greeting his fake-boyfriend enthusiastically, asking if he wants to go to the supermarket (to which he pleasantly agrees) and then leading him to the living room. God, wasn’t it illegal to be that handsome? Patrick stand there, wearing his usual light blue dress shirt and trousers, and yet he still manages to look like the most attractive person to ever exist.

They make quick work of slipping on their coats, grabbing Alexis’s car keys, and heading out of the house. Patrick waves bittersweetly at David’s vehicle when they pass it. “What’s… why?” Alexis laughs, and her brother joins in while Patrick flushes.

“Patrick had packed some stuff to keep us company for the car ride, and claims that it was a better partner than me.” David fills in, pouting, and it’s Patrick’s turn to giggle while Alexis waggles her eyebrows. “Honestly?” she then responds, “Patrick’s probably right.”

David gets out an offended “hey!” before the other two snort and giggle, ducking into Alexis’s car. It’s a nice Toyota, a 2016 model, and there’s crumbs and wrappers and markers that David is surprised to find there. Patrick, ever the kind one, offers to take the backseat, giving Alexis ample room to tease David about his crush in plain sight. He silently cursed his business partner for being so selfless.

The ride to the supermarket is relatively quiet, David scribbling down the ingredients he recalled for the roast ham. Patrick hummed to a tune the siblings didn’t know, merely admiring the wintry scenery they passed. There was no real grocery store within 15 miles of where the cabin was stationed, so they opted for going to Cirillo’s Market, a little plaza with a Walgreens next door. It was the market he and Alexis would shop at when they were kids, and he was pleased to find out that it was still in business.

He hadn’t been here in so long.

Alexis parks in the less-than-crowded parking lot, taking the key out of the ignition and flipping her scarf around her neck. It was a milder day, although that wasn’t saying much; it was teetering on 40 degrees, and David was just glad that the slush from yesterday had melted. Little victories.

The mart wasn’t much, just a brick building with a little green awning and baskets. The doors weren’t automatic, but Patrick was still enchanted, smiling broadly at the toothpaste blue walls and cold air produced by the open freezers. Alexis grabs a basket, and meets up with the other two, who had made their way to the in-store butcher. It seemed like most of the meats had been sold out, probably due to the fact that Christmas was in two days, but the trio was relieved to see a ham still on display.

They tell the butcher their order and, while they’re waiting, Patrick takes a glance at the shopping list sticky note still in David’s hand. “Hey, I can probably pick a few of these things up while we wait, yeah?” He asks, although he’s already taking the basket from Alexis’s hand and the list from David’s. The other two nod, and watch zoom off, in search of the thyme.

“He… does realize that he’s never been here, right?” Alexis laughs, looking around a corner.

“I… don’t know,” David replies honestly, and looks to the butcher, who is waving them an apology. He hadn’t cut the meat correctly, and he needed a few more minutes to fix the next one. David hides his huff, but nods, and the barely-an-adult thanks him and vanishes into the back room once more.

“He really is nice. Patrick, I mean,” Alexis comments, arms casually crossed, and David checks around them before stammering out a “yes, he is.” His sister laughs, lightly shoving him. “What? Are you afraid that Patrick’s gonna hear us? _Patrick, David likes you!”_ She exclaims, loud enough for anyone within their vicinity to hear, and David swats at her, quickly shushing his giggling sister.

“You never used those raspberry tarts to confess to him, did you?” She asks, and David hesitates before admitting the truth and nodding. Alexis scoffs, rolling her eyes, and David follows up with a frantic, “but I did get some fantastic homoerotic subtext, so!” His sister snorts.

“Right, right, but we don’t want subtext! We want actual content,” she insists, and David sighs. He is not having this conversation right now, when Patrick could literally be right behind them, so he does one of the things he’s best at: deflects.

“Hey, I wonder where Patrick is,” David ponders aloud, glancing around them, and Alexis makes a curious sound. “I don’t know. He’s probably off somewhere, helping an old lady.” David can’t deny - it does sound like something his business partner would do, but thankfully the butcher drops off the roast to them before he has to say anything more.

“Fucking finally,” Alexis says under her breath, and David laughs in response. “Alright, now to the drink aisle. We need the gross-ass sunscreen water you and Mom like.”  
  
David flicks her arm. “It’s not sunscreen water, it’s LaCroix, and it’s great.” Alexis _mhms_ slowly before turning down the last aisle, which is stacked to the tops of walls with different cold and room temperature drinks. It’s a fortress of cans and jugs, and David can’t find it in himself to hate it.

As they’re making their way to the SPF 50 Lime flavored drinks, David takes notice of the milk in one glass refrigerator. “Patrick makes really good french toast; d’ya think I could rope him into making some for us?” Alexis shrugs with both her shoulders and her eyebrows. “Maybe. We’ll need to get white bread, though.”  
  
David clicks his tongue, staring at the case for a beat before opening it and fishing out the whole milk. “We can grab it on our way out,” he says decisively, and he’s about to start walking when Alexis gives him a questioning look and goes into the fridge herself, grabbing the 2 percent and balancing it in her other hand.

“Everyone knows that 2 percent is the best milk to use for french toast, David.”  
  
Her brother shakes his head, chuckling. “No, everyone knows that _whole milk_ is. I’ve watched Patrick make it and I’m pretty sure he used whole milk.”

Alexis nods empathetically. “Right, you’re _pretty_ sure. That’s not completely sure, and plus, I am the best french toast maker in my household.”

“There are only three people in that house, and you are one of them!”

Their argument is cut short when Patrick rounds the corner, basket three fourths of the way filled. He spots them with a broad smile, grabs the LaCroix from the room temperature shelving and makes his way to the other two. Boy oh boy, Patrick knew him too well.

“What’re you going to do with the milk? I hate to break it to you, but Lucky Charms wasn’t on the list,” he laughs, opening his arm to let Alexis place the roast delicately in the bag. David shakes his head.

“No, no, I was trying to get it for your french toast, but Alexis here says it’s better with 2 percent and I think she is trying to start a milk fight.”

Patrick raises an eyebrow, and the other two smirk. Milk fighting was something they’d always do as kids, sneaking away from their parents just to duke it out with milk jugs in the back of the store. They’ve only been caught once, and it was fun to do their best not to make it twice.

“Alright, well, enjoy your milk fighting, and I will watch from afar. I figured you wanted me to make some french toast anyway, so I already got the bread,” Patrick grins, leaning forward to pressed a kiss to David’s cheek, and the sweater-clad man flushes red. He knew it was just because his sister was around, but it had also seemed so natural and nice… David tightens his grip on the jug in hand. Patrick was rooting for him, and he _would_ win.

“Are you ready for this?” Alexis laughs, squaring her shoulders and making them knee-width apart. She then turns back to Patrick, who’s watching apprehensively. “Are you sure you don’t want to join in?” David chimes, and his fake boyfriend bites his lip for a beat before caving. “Yeah, sure. Can’t guarantee that I’ll win, but,” he chuckles, and David hands him both a grin and a gallon from the glass fridge.

As soon as all three of them are armed, they begin, David making the first move. It’s simple, really; it’s just hitting other people with a milk jug, but it’s definitely more fun in real life than on paper. David swings at Alexis’s carton, which she deftly blocks, and in return, Patrick lightly taps her on her unguarded stomach. She gasps, in surprise, feigning hurt. “I didn’t come here to fight unfairly!”

Patrick smirks, twisting his body to tap the jug onto David’s arm. “And who said I did?”

That launches them into a fully fledged fight, laughing and shivering at the condensation that smears on their arms. There’s no one around them, so they’re quite loud, the smack of plastic on skin barely audible above their giggly screams. David knows for a fact he’s going to be hurting later; Alexis has gotten him good a few times on the arm, and he was no longer as young and tolerant of pain.

Patrick just lands the killing blow to Alexis, who’s milk topples out of her hands with a loud _splat,_ when a worker comes around the corner, frowning. “You three need to stop, or we’re going to kick you out. Please act like adults,” she says, pointing a finger toward all of them, and then walks away with distaste. She’d probably seen them on the cameras, and had wanted to kick them out in the first place - sometimes company policy _did_ work in their favor.

As the employee disappears into the front of the shop, the three others look at each other silently, two of them still holding milk jugs. All they do after is collapse into loud, pure laughter.

* * *

They do, in fact, buy the whole milk, much to Alexis’s chagrin.

On the ride home, they are significantly louder, still giddy after getting caught with no serious consequences. _Livin’ On A Prayer_ is fading out, all three people in the car panting from the exertion of yelling the lyrics, when Tina Turner’s _Simply the Best_ starts to play. Alexis is about to change it when Patrick pleads for her to not, and then he starts singing it and it’s _magical._

He was a voice like silk, a voice like butter. It’s soft and smooth and delightful and perfect, something that David could listen to for hours on end. And it’s a romantic song; someone singing to their lover that they _were_ the best, that they were adored beyond belief. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but as Patrick sang the chorus, David couldn’t help but imagine that Patrick was singing to him. It would be nice, to be serenaded by his business partner, and he nearly jumped out of his skin when he feels hands snake around his shoulder. He turns to see Patrick smiling at him, lyrics still flowing from his lips, and David’s heart stutters.

He _was_ singing to him.

It only lasts for a second, that moment, as he turns away, face blushing violently. He sneaks a glance to see Patrick gone, leaning against the backseat and mimicking the drums, but the feeling of giddiness and surprise is still battering around in his stomach like a cluster of malicious butterflies. Alexis is biting back a smile, fully aware of what had just happened, and David resists the urge to make a face of gay panic toward her.

Thankfully, that’s the only incident for the rest of the ride, David calming down enough to smile at the other two and take the groceries in with semi-shaky hands. Moira is pleased with their outing, thanking them profusely (but Patrick the most. Of course, she picked favorites.) and immediately getting to work on the ham in front of her.

The night, after that, goes by smoothly, everyone in the household working hard on making the cabin look immaculate. It was dreamy, in a way; lights hung from every awning, garland brushing the walls… it was almost as good as _Rose Apothecary_ before he and Patrick had left, but not quite enough; the store had a certain kind of charm that only his business partner himself could achieve alone.

They’re just finishing up, David and Patrick chatting idly and carrying boxes of even _more_ decorations through the hallway and to the living room (seriously, how much money did all of these things cost?) when it happens. It being the luckiest, most idiotic thing to ever possibly happen to him.

The both of them are just shuffling through the doorway, boxes in hand causing them to lag briefly when Alexis spins around, unable to conceal her devilish grin.

“Well, look at that,” she laughs, causing the two men to stop talking at once, “you two are under the mistletoe!”  
  
David’s eyes widen, a flush creeping up on his cheeks, and one spare glance in Patrick’s direction shows him that the brunette is just as incredulous. He then laughs nervously, situating the plastic storage bin on his hip, and looks up at the offending plant in the doorway anxiously.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Patrick says, voice climbing up the octave, but Alexis just shakes her head. “I think it is,” she amends, smirking, “I mean, it is tradition, and plus… I don’t think I’ve ever _actually_ seen you guys kiss.”=

Ooh, did David despise Alexis right now. Her triumphant expression was in its full capacity, smug and sure she’d gotten them (which, in fact, she had.) And of course, because fate had decided to call his bluff, his father walks in, garland in hand and thoughtful expression on his features.

“Come to think of it, we really haven’t!” He says, and faces them with a smile. Now both he and Alexis are looking at them expectantly, and David has never wanted to sink directly into the wooden floor more.

“That’s irreleva-!”

“Well, guess we _have_ to do it then, huh?” Patrick says amusedly, although David can see the hesitancy in his stance when he puts the box on is hip down. It’s not as though David didn’t want to kiss Patrick; quite the opposite, actually, he just would’ve preferred their first one to be a little more… private. But now here they were, about to smooch in front of three fourths of his family, and he thanked his lucky stars that his mother wasn’t around.

“I guess,” he responds, setting his own box down and chuckling apprehensively afterward. They both weren’t holding anything anymore, and therefore they had no more room to stall, so David turns to Patrick a little too quickly and gives him a nervous smile.

Every hair on David’s arm seems to stand when Patrick slowly leans into him, his eyes honey brown in the yellow hallway light. David’s enchanted, like always, and it isn’t hard to bring a hand to Patrick’s waist and bridge the gap between them.

But nothing could have prepared him for how it felt.

It wasn’t like anything else he’d felt before; unlike any other kiss. It was like his first time all over again, except infinitely more magical; there were butterflies erupting in his stomach and every limb felt jittery, but he stays still just for Patrick. His partner’s lips are soft, new, taste faintly of vanilla bean and are entirely inviting. David isn’t sure if he’d ever want to stop kissing him but alas, everything ends, and they part, David’s hand still tight on Patrick’s hip.

This must’ve evoked something in them, because almost as soon as they separate, they’re back together again, this time much more fervent. Patrick’s mouth is hot and curious and David wants more, especially when his hand curls around David’s jaw and pulls him infinitely closer.

But then David, being the idiot he is, does the only thing he knows how to.

Runs.

He pulls away like he’s been burned, prompting Patrick to look at him confusedly and retract his hand from where it rest on David’s face. His amber eyes are lost, and questioning and laced with hurt, but David pays no mind. He barely gets out a whispered “I’m so sorry” before turning and bolting out of the living room and away from Patrick.

David barely hears the cry of his own name from Alexis as his thoughts are screaming in his ears, shouting words of self-harm and hatred as he runs through the kitchen. Fumbling with the lock on the patio door, gets through _that_ , and makes his way to the lakeside. He only slows when he reaches the docks, winter air barely registering on his _skin_ , he feels so hot. He sits down on the edge, staring hopelessly into the black ink called water.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there, staring into the murky abyss, beating himself up for what had just happened. God, he was so _stupid!_ All they’d needed was one kiss, but no, he’d leaned in for another because he was foolish and idiotic and loved to ruin his own life. Patrick probably hated him now, resented David for kissing him twice, and now he’d ruined one of the only good friendships he’d had.

He refuses to acknowledge that Patrick had kissed him back.

Self-hatred is loud, suffocatingly so, but apparently footsteps are louder, as they jolt David out of his thoughts and back into the frigid world. They reverberate through the dock, heavy but poised, and David already knows that it’s his father.

True to his guess, Johnny Rose sits down next to him, his business outfit almost comical when compared to the setting they were in. But his expression is concerned, eyebrows furrowed and mouth a thin line, and David can bet money that he’s about to get some golden fatherly advice.

“You’ve been out here for quite a while, David,” his father starts, to which said man looks up with surprise. “How long?” he asks, almost scared to hear the answer, and balks when Johnny checks his watch and says a resigned, “about 30 minutes.”

“Jesus fuck,” David swears, “why didn’t anyone come get me?”

“Patrick wanted to,” Johnny responds, “but Alexis and I thought it best to let you think out here for a little while.”  
  
“Little while? I could’ve froze to fucking death!”

“You’re wearing two sweaters, David, and you’d be smart enough to come inside when you were cold.”

David opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out, so he just sighs and relents. Of course his father was right; he usually was, except David sometimes didn’t like to hear the truth. All the warmth from the house and Patrick’s kisses was gone, instead tearing cold and heartache in its fleeting wake. He missed it, even though he’d only had it for a few seconds; the feeling of floating in his crush’s arms. He was screwed.

“Why did you run?” Johnny asks, soft and caring, and suddenly David is a child again, needing comfort from his father when the world became too much to bear.

“I don’t know,” he responds, voice brittle, “I wanted it, I _liked_ it, but I… I probably scared him away, I-,”

“Hey,” his father interrupts him before he can start spiraling, and for that, David is grateful. “You didn’t scare him away, and honestly? I don’t think you could if you tried, David. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he acts around you… I think he’s in love with you.”  
  
David’s sure that, at this point, his father has figured that he and Patrick aren’t actually together. But the words said into the cold air make him warm, heart ricocheting in his chest, and for the first time in five years, he lets himself believe that maybe, just maybe, Patrick may like him back.

“I think you’re scaring yourself,” Johnny murmurs, placing a hand onto David’s back, “you’re scared you’ll be hurt again. You’ve been through so much, you’ve loved and lost so much, and I,” Johnny’s voice breaks at the end, and David’s shocked to see that his father is on the verge of tears. For him. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. But I am now, and I want you to know that I want _you_ to be happy. And I see that, with you and Patrick.”   
  
David’s mouth quivers, he himself close to crying. So he leans over, wrapping his dad in the tightest hug he can muster, and buries his face into the suit jacket. Johnny doesn’t seem to mind, holding his son (his pride, his joy) just as tightly.

“I’ve never liked someone as much or for as long as him,” David whispers, voice choking with emotion. “I was never dating anyone because I was always pining for him. And finally, when I do bring him to meet you, we aren’t even-!” Here, his voice cracks, and tiny tears leave stains on Johnny’s coat. The older man just rubs David’s back, soothing him as best he can.

“But maybe you can be,” Johnny says, pulling away to look David in the eyes. “You should tell him how you feel. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t.”

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same?” David asks feebly.

To his remorse, his father just laughs. “He does. Trust me.”

With a shuffle of clothing, David pulls away completely, giving Johnny a watery smile. “Thanks, Dad,” he manages out, wiping the now-cold tear tracks from his face. Johnny claps him on the back, shaking him with a little more force than necessary. “Anytime, son. You know I love you.”

 _I love you too_ gets stuck in David’s throat, and he wishes that, in that moment, he was just a little more emotionally available. It was his dad, after all; the words should come easy, but they don’t, years of self abuse forming the lump in his throat. “You, too,” he settles on, and from the crinkle of his dad’s eyes, David can tell that it was perfectly okay.

As they stand up from the dock, David’s back popping from exertion, his dad gives him a winning smile. “Now, go get ‘em, tiger!” He prompts, but his son just wrinkles his nose, shaking his head.

“I’ll tell him tonight,” he chuckles, and Johnny deflates but laughs along with him. “Right before bed, perfect. Wait…” his father turns to look at him with wide eyes, and David presses his lips together in anticipation. “Have you both been sleeping in the same bed? The _twin?”_

David blushes fervently. “What if I said yes?”  
  
His father is incredulous. “Holy shit!” He exclaims, and then more to himself, “holy shit…”

David felt the exact same way.

* * *

 

Dinner that night had been one of the most painfully awkward moments Patrick had ever experienced.

It had been nearly silent, the only noises being an occasional quip by Johnny (met with just affirmative grunts) and a “more peas, pease!” from Sarah. Alexis had picked at her food the entire time, and David had refused to meet his eyes, instead looking very intimately at the meal still balanced on his plate.

The story Patrick had told the first night, about how he and David had met, was true. Completely true, in fact; the only bluff being that they had admitted their feelings. David was the first man he’d really, really been attracted to; after he’d met the guy, he’d officially cut ties with Rachael, and threw himself into his work, where David was. He hadn’t understood why he’d felt so strongly about him at first, but then one night, perhaps pondering both his ex-fiancé and his business partner a little too much, he comes to realize that he was, unsurprisingly, in love with said business partner and had never actually been in love with his almost-wife.

But because he knew David was skittish, he never said a word. Which is why, he supposes, is the reason why he is still pining five years later.

Five and a half years later, he corrects himself, standing up from his seat at the dining table when they are dismissed. Moira seems a little more than put off by all this, and Patrick sees her go ask David what was up when the sweater-clad man waved her off and says he’s going to take a shower. He then spares a glance to Patrick, eyes swimming with _something_ that the brunette can’t name before David looks away and retreats to his room. Patrick stares at the floor, mouth pressed together in a line of hurt, before Alexis gains his attention.

“Dish duty?” She asks, chuckling afterward.

Patrick forces a smile. “Sure.”

The duo make their way over to the sink, Alexis sidling up to the actual basin while Patrick readies himself with a drying towel. He had to admit, he and Alexis made a good dishwashing team; although why the wealthy family didn’t buy an actual dishwasher, Patrick was unsure. Pots and plates were stacked high in the sink, and the businessman had a nagging feeling that the two of them were going to be here for a while.

They begin to work, the running water providing ample background noise to Patrick’s thoughts, and as he methodically dries the ceramic, he lets himself settle.

He was upset. He knew it was wrong to be upset with David, who was also probably upset and scared and beating himself up over nothing, but he was, and it sucked. He selfishly wished David would go faster, to come to terms with his feelings quicker, but he knew that his business partner needed time.

Patrick squashes down the ugly voice in his head that tells him he’s waited long enough.

Alexis lets out a surprised gasp when Patrick nearly drops a dish, and they both burst into relieved laughter when they realize that it was just one of Sarah’s plastic plates. David’s sister then turns to him, a sad smile on her face.

“So, are you going to talk to him?” Alexis asks, still scrubbing at a pot with the harder side of the sponge. Patrick sighs inwardly; he knew this conversation was coming, Alexis cared too much, and he’s just grateful that the kitchen was empty.

“No, I don’t believe so,” he responds, tone offhanded, as if the decision did not hold much weight.

Alexis stops her ministrations to gape at him incredulously. “You’re _serious?_ If it makes you feel any better, he’s totally into you, too… and before you ask,” she holds a soapy finger up to quiet Patrick’s question, “yes, I know you both aren’t together. David came clean to me yesterday.”

Patrick raises his eyebrows, nodding slowly, before crossing his arms and draping the towel over them. “So then… why did you point out the mistletoe?”

She huffs. “Because my brother is an idiot and he needs a gigantic push to do something _remotely_ out of his comfort zone. But you’re ignoring my question!”

Patrick chuckles humorlessly before turning back to polish a glass mug. “I know he’s into me. I have, for quite some time. I just didn’t _do_ anything about it.”

“Why didn’t you?” Her tone is accusatory, and Patrick knows he must tread lightly.

“Because I couldn’t,” he responds, refusing to meet her gaze, “you said it yourself: he’s an idiot and he takes time to realize shit. Five fucking years, I’ve waited for him, Alexis. Five years of pining and seeing him get hurt and wanting to hold him and not being able to do anything.” Patrick takes a shuddering breath to steady himself, loosening his grip on the plate in front of him.

“Because the last thing I’d ever want to do is scare him away from me.”  
  
The two of them sit in silence, the only noise being the gurgle of the sink and the tv blaring in the background. It’s a Christmas movie, that much Patrick can infer, and he recalls the time he and David watched _Home Alone 2: Lost In New York_ together a few years back. Patrick had been shocked, having only seen the first, and remembers David’s laughter when he’d asked, “how do you get lost in New York? It’s a fucking grid?” incredulously.

One way or another, Patrick hoped that things returned back to normal soon.

Finally, Alexis relents. “I know my brother is foolish,” she starts, running the tap once more, “but I’d just thought with a guy as good as you are, he’d wake up and go a little faster. When he brought you here, I was so happy,” she laughs mirthlessly, “and yet I figured something was up. I hate that I was right.”  
  
She frowns down t the dish she’s washing, and Patrick is both surprised and relieved to see that they only had one pot left. Don’t get him wrong, he loved David’s sister to bits, but their conversation was only making him more upset about what he couldn’t have.

“I just want him to be happy,” she murmurs, resigned. Her features are twisted into a forlorn expression, blue eyes clouded with sorrow, and Patrick can’t help but think that Alexis’s face is mirroring the emotions swirling in his chest.

“Me, too.”

* * *

When the dishes are clean, and the entire house seems quiet (save for the blaring of the TV and the giggles of Ted and Alexis), Patrick believes it’s time to face David, once and for all. He isn’t sure how it’s going to turn out, the stakes uncomfortably high for a numbers guy like himself, but he picks a god and prays before hesitantly entering the bedroom.

His face immediately is engulfed in flames, and he’s ashamed that he hadn’t knocked first. David is sitting on his bed, clothed in nothing but a towel (god, his chest was fucking amazing) and Patrick assumes that the man had just finished showering. The creak of the door opening and closing must’ve gained the dark-haired man’s attention, because he glances up from his phone, blushing violently as well.

As he stands there, he and David having a stare down with the latter half-naked, he realizes that he isn’t exactly sure of what he’s going to say. It would’ve been ideal if David started the conversation, maybe asking something along the lines of “so, how did you feel about that kiss?” and Patrick would respond with a too-true “I really liked it!” and then they’d make out or something along that train of thought, but alas, it didn’t seem like David was going to comply to Patrick’s mind plan, as his business partner looked very similar to a deer caught in the headlights.

The silence between them was thick and palpable, tension so tight Patrick could’ve sliced it through with a butter knife. It was quiet, too quiet, and Patrick feels like he should do something. He’s got to, right? He’s an expert at defusing tension. But because he was so desperate to defuse the thing between them, he says the first thing that comes to mind, which is a very eloquent,

“I really liked it when you kissed me and I’d like to do it again!”

He then clamps his mouth shut, biting his lip violently at his words. Of all the things he had to say, it had to be _that?_ Talk about making David uncomfortable... his brain was not very kind. He doesn’t dare look up at David’s face; he was probably spooked and terrified and he would be scared to talk to Patrick again. And yet, instead of David saying something defensive or telling him to leave, he just breathes out an incredulous “really?” and Patrick’s heart flutters in his chest. David wasn’t running, David wasn’t _running_ , and he wasn’t pushing Patrick away - instead, he was offering himself to Patrick, and good god, he wanted all of it.

So he sits down on the bed, takes David face in his hands, and smiles. “Yes. Every second of it. I love every second I’m with _you,_ David,” he murmurs, close enough so only he can hear. The dark-haired man breathed in soft bronze light, cheeks rosy from Patrick and a hot shower and the business man wants nothing more than to kiss him.

But he waits, lets David’s eyelashes flutter against his cheekbones and pupils to dilate. Waits for David to be ready, waits for David to lick his lips and lean in, closer and closer still, until their mouths are brushing and David says a wordless “I’m scared” to Patrick’s lips. Patrick stops, stroking the side of David’s hairline, and nods gently. “Of what?” He whispers back, and David shudders against him.

“Of ruining this,” he responds, and moves to back away, but Patrick holds him still, knowing when he should and shouldn’t let go. “You won’t. I won’t let you, love,” Patrick sighs, ever so warm, and David presses them together with a soft noise.

It’s perfect. David’s mouth is soft and sweet and delicate and excellent, everything Patrick had wanted and more. It was supple from the use of chapstick, and it smiled against his own. Patrick felt like he was falling, floating, fireworks exploding in his brain and heart.

Solid ground was a million miles away, and Patrick was happy to fly as long as he was in David’s orbit.


	5. of parties and porches

David wakes slowly, in no rush whatsoever. The wintry sun shone through the open curtains, dancing patterns on his skin and the duvet, and he yawns quietly. Everything was serene, and best of all, his heart was light.

Patrick lay curled next to him, shirtless and elegant in the early hour. He was still sleeping, eyebrows furrowing minimally at something in his dream, and David is content to trace patterns on his partner’s arm while they waited for the world to wake up.

It eventually does so, the thrum and beat of footsteps above them stirring Patrick awake. He looks so perfect, with his brown eyes still sleep-addled and his smile still groggy, and David can’t resist the urge to lean in and kiss the other awake.

“Mornin’,” Patrick murmurs, lazily kissing back.

A slow hand reaches up to cup David’s jaw, and he smiles. 

“Morning,” he responds, much more alert than the other, and at this, Patrick groans softly.

“Got a busy day today.”

“Mhmm.”

“You want me to make some french toast to get us started?”   
  
“Yes, please.”   
  
Although Patrick decides to make breakfast for the family, he makes no actual move to do so, still languidly kissing David and running his hands along the other’s spine. 

“You,” Patrick manages out, “are a distraction. C’mon, we need to get- oh!”

He makes a pleasant noise when David moves to tease his ear, and has to physically force himself to get up and away from his adorably clingy boyfriend. David relents, however, getting up too, and he throws Patrick the shirt which lay on the floor. He’s pretty sure it’s actually David’s, if evident from the material and design, but Patrick cannot bring himself to mind, slipping it on without a word.

They walk into the kitchen, the house enchanting quiet around them, and David figures that the footsteps he may have heard did not actually come downstairs. But he pays it no heed, instead situating himself behind the counter on a barstool to watch Patrick while he worked.

It was… domestic, to watch Patrick cook. He moved around the kitchen as if it were his own, finding and doling out ingredients with ease. The smell of not only french toast but bacon found its way through the air, and Patrick balanced it all perfectly. David could’ve sat there for days, watching his partner make breakfast on an early winter day, and although they’d only been together for one night, David can’t help but think that he’d like to have that view for the rest of his life.

The rest of the family slowly trickle in, tired eyes and shuffling walks. Everyone seemed tired from the day before’s rushing around, not even remotely prepared for the evening’s tasks, but David knew better; they’d put on their performing face soon, and then they’d be the good ol’ Roses that people assumed they knew. For now, however, they were just normal humans.

Patrick served them breakfast with a broad grin, and David doesn’t understand how he does it; how he’s so kind and courteous all the time. He supposes he admires it.

The air between them has changed, too. It feels… lighter, more delicate, but so new and so much sweeter. He doesn’t have to look away when Patrick catches him staring. Instead, he can hold his gaze, making the other flush and glance in the other direction. It was nice, not having to hide his affection; and from the expressions that Johnny and Alexis wore, they were pleased, too.

“Looks like someone had fun last night,” his sister grins, poking him in the chest, and he scowls away the embarrassment that colors his cheeks.

“Oh, hush you,” he replies smartly, prompting a terribly stifled laugh from her. After a beat or two, he pats Alexis’s hand, mouthing a near-silent “thank you” to which she just winks and smiles.

Patrick sits down next to them, giving David a kiss on the temple like it was second nature, and the feeling that blooms in David’s chest in indescribable. 

The rest of the morning passes by in a whirlwind, the house a hurricane of holiday decorations and smells. Gingerbread and rosemary paint colors around them, the glittering lights and smiling faces of snowmen an ample canvas. As David quickly moves through the living room, he spies Alexis and Ted sharing a slow dance, tangled up in each other and David doesn’t tear up, _ dammit. _

But before they realize it, it’s creeping closer to 3pm, when all the guests will start arriving. David isn’t anxious, per se; quite the opposite. He’s excited to see the family that he hasn’t in so long, but he’s still a little worried that they’ll… shun him or something, for not visiting in forever.

David worries his lip between his teeth, adjusting the tie already neatly pressed against him. His mother had preferred them to be at least a little formal at these kinds of things, and he was never one to defy her, so he’d opted for a collared shirt (tie, of course) and one of his trademark sweaters over it. He pulls at the hem of said sweater, unsure if any of this suited him anymore, when there’s a soft knock on the bedroom door. David steps away from the mirror, putting a self-conscious hand to his hair, and yells out an uncertain “come in!” from where he stood.

To his relief, it’s only Patrick, already dressed in his own outfit. It, too, is a collared shirt with a tie, but it has the most horrid color scheme David’s ever seen.

“Have you spontaneously turned colorblind?” David asks, and Patrick quirks a smile.

“Just for the Christmas season,” he quips back, pulling David into an embrace, “but you look dashing as ever.”

He blushes. “I’m glad one of us seems to think so,” David mutters, kissing his forehead as he pulls away to inspect himself once more. Patrick frowns, standing next to him, and he places a gentle hand onto his partner’s waist.

“One of us?” He echoes. “David, you’re one of the most lovely looking people I know.”

The man in question laughs humorlessly. “That’s nice of you to say. But, uh, I kind of have a hard time believing that, you know, self esteem and all,” he mutters, sighing to himself. Sure, he liked to come off as confident and charismatic, but his insides felt like quite the opposite - more like goop than something of worth.

“I do know,” Patrick responded quietly, “and I know it’ll take time for you to believe me, but I’ll tell you every _ day _ if I have to. Because I mean it, I really do.”

David lets out a shuddering breath and tightens his grip on the arms that had found their way around his torso. He wanted to believe Patrick, he really did, and he was so upset that his brain didn’t let him. He supposed it would be a lesson that he would only get to learn with time.

They stand there for a few minutes, just holding each other contentedly. Patrick is behind him, hands splayed against David’s stomach and chin resting lightly on his shoulder as they stand together. David leans against him, fingers curling in the other’s strong, Christmas colored arms, and he feels the storm in his chest start to subside when there’s violent knocking on the front door, followed by happy cheers, and it starts all over again.

“You ready?” Patrick asks, pulling away to straighten his collar, and David shrugs with his eyebrows.

“As I’ll ever be.”   
  
They lace their hands together, Patrick offering him a kind, reassuring smile, and make their way to judgment hall.

* * *

 

“Oh, David! Look how much you’ve grown!”

It wasn’t like he wasn’t expecting it; the warm but surprised smiles, outstretched hands and sugar coated tones. His extended family was happy to see him, his Aunt Maggey holding him for far longer than necessary,  and he was happy to see _ them - _ even if they could be a little overbearing at times.

He doesn’t realize how much socializing takes out of him, though. Maybe it’s all the people that he’s only mildly interested in, and the screaming of children in the background, but it’s only been an hour and he’s already feeling a headache starting at his temples. He’s putting on his best face, one that everyone is used to, and the drinks that rest on the kitchen counter are barely helping; they’re only mildly buzzed in case a kid gets the bright idea of chugging one.

David’s finishing his conversation with his old Uncle Mike, which had landed on the boring-ass topic of motorcycles, when she appears. His favorite aunt, the kindest one he knew - Aunt Minevra, wearing a flowing shawl with intricate patterns and the softest hair he’d ever seen. She was short, plump, with dark eyes and locks, and owned the kindest smile he knew. She makes her way over to him with a glass of poured champagne in her hand, and grins knowingly.

“David,” she says, “How do you do?”   
  
“I fare well, Ms. Minerva. Quite tired of talking to all these hooligans, but you know how it is.”   
  
She scoffs, rolling the glass in her hand. “That I do,” she laughs, “that I do. But David, I haven’t seen you in so long! How’s _ Rose Apothecary?” _

He breaks into a grin when his esteemed boyfriend isn’t the first thing she asks about. Of course, he wants to flaunt Patrick, because who wouldn’t, but he also takes pride in other things he holds dear. “Really well,” he replies, “we’ve started hosting open mic nights, and we’ve even been able to host some discounts and such. We’re doing a lot better than we thought we would, especially so soon.”   
  
“I’m so happy to hear that!” Minerva says earnestly, “it’s always so lovely to see a Rose family business flourish. But… is some of the credit owed to the mystery man you seem to have brought with you?”   
  
David chuckles happily. He knew she couldn’t resist for long. “Absolutely,” he admits, “I couldn’t have done it without him. He takes care of the parts I don’t like with pleasure.”   
  
She smiles once more, and it’s so full of pride David’s heart can’t help but lift. 

“Where is he?” She asks, and David looks to her in confusion before he spins around to find that his partner is no longer there. He’d been with him for most of the night, so the fact that he’d disappear unannounced is strange - he’s about to call Patrick’s name when he hears a soft “boo!” behind him, and something poke his shoulder.

He turns around the other way to find his love’s face smiling at him, holding a paper plate stacked with cheese in one hand. “Hi,” he greets, “I got you both american and cheddar because I know you get indecisive. Sorry for vanishing on you,” he chuckles, and David can’t help but giggle back. Patrick knew him so well.

“It’s alright, thank you,” he whispers, and then gestures to his aunt, who is looking at them pridefully. “This is my Aunt Minerva. She’s amazing and I love her,” David introduces, and his two favorite people exchange smiles and shake hands immediately. It feels strangely like two worlds colliding, although David is not at all against it. 

“So how did you two meet?” Minerva asks, shifting her weight all to one side, and David places a hand on Patrick’s shoulder to prevent him from saying the actual answer. 

“He was my drug dealer,” he says, in the most serious tone he can muster, before all three of them collapse into laughter. _ Of course _ Patrick wasn’t actually his drug dealer, but from the goof that night in the car and his aunt’s dark sense of humor, David figured it would be appropriate, which was a correct judgement, based on how Patrick was shaking into his shoulder.

They continue their conversation for the better part of the hour, thoroughly enjoying catching up with his aunt and all that she’d been doing. She wasn’t _ much _ older than them, only about ten years - but she was widowed and had a young daughter named Avarye, and had a lot more experience under her belt. David loved hearing her stories, as she specialized in fortune telling, although some of the ghost ones sent shivers down his spine.

But she did have to go eventually, another family friend dragging her off to do pine shots, and David and Patrick are left alone for the first time since the night began. With one look shared between them, they book it to the porch, David refusing to meet his cousin’s penetrative gaze that feels like fire on his back.

They close the door behind them, the cool night air immediately brushing upon their faces and uncovered arms. It’s a surprisingly warm evening for New York, but David isn’t complaining, as the fairy lights illuminate Patrick’s gentle features with glowing ease. He’s so pretty here, in the chilly moonlight, that David could spend hours painting a mental picture of him; something he could look back on for days and nights to come.

“Are you doing alright?” Patrick asks, situating his arms against the railing and leaning forward to drift his gaze along the perimeter of the house, and David nods, mirroring his position.

“Doing good. I loved talking to Aunt Minevra; she’s an absolute character.”   
  
“She is!” Patrick agrees, laughing, “I loved that you brought up the drug dealer story. I knew that idea would come in handy.” 

David puts a hand up to his mouth to stifle his laughter and the biting breeze from chapping his lips. “I thought you’d like it. You seemed so pleased with yourself when you first brought it up, so I felt like I couldn’t _ not _ mention it, you know?”   
  
“Yeah.”

They calm from their fit of laughter, and their gaze meets over the darkening horizon. The trees are bare, casting long shadows against the purple sky, and the world feels oddly still. Patrick doesn’t want to shatter the silence between them, silence that was filled with emotion, but he does so because there’s something he’s been meaning to share.

“Uhm, listen,” he begins, gaining David’s attention, “there’s something I wanted to give you, uh, before Christmas. It’s kind of private, so I didn’t want to give it to you in front of the whole family, and I thought now would be as good a time as ever, so…”

David quirks an eyebrow at him, posture going slightly rigid with tension, and Patrick already feels a little bad for making the skittish man go on alert once more. Hoping the box in his pocket would ease their tension, he pulls it out quickly, handing it to the person beside him with a small smile. 

“Open it,” he reassures, when David turns it in his hands a few times, and when he does so, he gasps softly. There are four uncovered ring pops inside, each in one of the slots where an actual ring should go. The dark haired man then bursts into another round of giggles, holding it up so that he can discern the colors in the porch light. 

“Are you proposing to me?” He asks, almost nervous, and he means it - he doesn’t know how he would react if Patrick was legitimately asking him to marry him so soon. He isn’t sure if he would say no, however, and that thought makes him all the more anxious. But Patrick shakes his head, soothing his rapid heartbeat, and smiles.

“Not exactly,” he corrects, “more like a… proposal to propose. A promise that someday, I really will.”

David flushes at this, taking the rings out of the box to replace the ones currently on his fingers. They were heavier, and much sweeter, but as he puts one in his mouth, he can’t find it in himself to complain. “Watermelon!” He chimes, grinning broadly, “my favorite… how’d you know?”

Patrick winks at him, sending an electric current through his body. “Lucky guess?”

They lean closer so that their shoulders are brushing, David intertwining his non-bedazzled hand with Patrick’s other, and he’s pretty sure they’re about to converse again when a loud cry erupts from inside, prompting them to whirl around immediately. The doors are glass, providing them some way to see inside, but there’s a crowd of people around the offenders, blocking their view. With a set jaw, David leads the way, candy rings not degrading anything from his powerful stance.

They bustle in and push their way through the crowd, Patrick jumping to action while David just… takes in the scene. Josh, the cousin who’d been glaring at him when he and Patrick had gone outside, was clutching his nose and panting heavily; his hands, too, were bloody, and he seemed to be in a decent amount of pain. Opposite him stood Alexis, who was boiling over with rage and required Johnny, Ted, and Patrick to hold her back from supposedly punching the offender once more.

“What happened?” David asks his sister, to which she turns to him with a scowl that could kill a man. 

“ _ He _ happened,” she bites out, trying to swing at Josh once more, “I overheard him calling you a slur, asked him what his problem was, and he said ‘my problem is that your brother is a fucking fag!’” A few of the family members in the huddle gasp offendedly, and said man cowers from where he holds his nose in agony. 

“So I did what any good sister would do. I punched his fucking lights out!” Alexis roars, struggling to free herself of her father’s grip, but to no avail. It doesn’t seem to matter to Josh, who scampers away without another word, and his mother, who is standing in the crowd nearby, sighs forlornly.

“I’m so sorry about him,” she murmurs, “this won’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” Moira intervenes, crossing her arms and tapping her heel against the hardwood. “I suggest you leave early and take your son with you. Learn to control the animal that he is,” she spits, but the other does nothing but nod and walk away with her own head hung low.

Moira then turns to David, and fixes him with a sad look before wrapping him in a hug. “I’m so sorry, dear,” she whispers into his hair, and he tries to laugh. 

“I’m okay, Mom. I’m sorry for ruining your party.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “Nonsense. This party will continue on without another hitch. But I do suggest you and Patrick take Sarah somewhere else; I don’t want her seeing her mother like this. Not yet,” she advises, and David nods knowingly. It took a little while for Alexis to calm down, and Sarah was a little too young to see her mom in such a violent state.

Johnny takes his daughter into the kitchen, her features still arranged into a scowl, although she gives David a smug look when she walks by him. He owes a lot to her, and what she’d just done wouldn’t go unremembered. But now, as David scans the room for her daughter to find her still sitting on the couch, worriedly looking down in her hands, he knows that he has something more important to attend to.

“Hey, princess,” he says, striding over to her to pick her up and balance her on his hip, “are you in the mood for some waffles?”   
  
She giggles, smiling albeit a little confusedly at him, but pleased all the same. “Sure!” She exclaims, wriggling a tad in his grasp, and he makes quick work of going to the foyer to help her with her little shoes and coat. Patrick joins them not long after, giving David a nod to reassure him that Alexis was okay, and they leave the house into the frigid night air.

They take their own car, Patrick smiling secretly at the box that still lay on the passenger’s side, and David enjoys the quiet yet still slightly tension filled silence that crowded the air around them. He was trying not to show his brief hurt; hearing those slurs, even if he hadn’t in first person, always stung just a little more than he thought they would. He assumed he’d be used to them by now - but some things just dug a knife so deep it never really came out.

To his pleasure, the Waffle House is still open, the yellow lights blaring something unkind to the aesthetically pleasing dark sky. Sarah wraps her tiny fingers around he and Patrick’s hands, leaving her to bounce happily in the middle, and David can’t help but wonder if this was what it would be like to have a family of his own. She swings their arms from where she jumps in between them, and does so until they’re inside the significantly warmer but dirtier restaurant.

There’s a strange lull in reality as they tuck into a booth and open their menus, the fluorescent lighting against the linoleum straining their eyes and ears. But the waitress is kind enough, a young woman with dark skin and a bright smile, and David pulls Sarah closer to make sure she’s completely cared for. He also laces he and Patrick’s fingers together, the candy rings glistening due to the overhead lights.

It’s a strange way to spend Christmas Eve, eating waffles with your one-day boyfriend and sister’s daughter, but David wouldn’t have preferred it any other way.

* * *

The next morning is a bit of a… wild one, it being December 25th. The three of them had arrived home around 9pm, Sarah already passed out in David’s arms, and to their relief, Alexis had cooed over her and put her to bed. It seemed as though his sister had calmed down, and after she’d done so, she wrapped David in a hug and apologized profusely. For what, David didn’t exactly know, but he took it in stride and hugged her back all the same.

And then they’d, too, gone to sleep, feeling the sleep in their bones outweigh the childish excitement that WAS Christmas morning. 

They’d jolted awake to the sound of thudding footsteps down the stairs, and David turns to Patrick (who is currently cuddled closely in his arms) with a broad grin. Patrick smiles back at him, stretching his own arms around his partner’s neck before pulling him into a quick kiss. David smiles against his mouth, the press already familiar, and when they break away, they make quick work of getting out of bed and into the living room, where Alexis, Ted, and Sarah already sit. The young child bounces happily in her seat, grinning brightly at her two uncles, and Ted scooches over so that they can sit down.

Just then, two _ more _ sets of footsteps come trudging down the stairs, and the last two people in the household take their seats on the couch, and not the floor.

“I’m too old to be waking up this early,” Moira laughs good-naturedly, and the rest of them laugh with her, a few even agreeing. But Sarah’s childish glee is contagious, and David feels even himself getting more excited to open the presents underneath the Christmas tree. 

The first present, of course, goes to Sarah and is from Johnny and Moira. It’s a few pairs of kitten socks that the young girl cooes over and insists that she put on before the morning continues, and with hidden laughter from her father, he helps her slip on the pink kitty faces onto her feet.

The rest of the presents go by rather quickly, the adults not paying much mind to their own. Ted had surprised Alexis by buying her a cookbook, to which she hit him playfully, and Johnny and Moira had bought the married couple a much-needed blender. The parents had gotten David a new, soft black scarf, one that he automatically wrapped around his neck, and had given Patrick (much to his surprise) the gramophone that they’d _ also _ won at an antique auction.

He almost refused to take it, insisting that he didn’t mean that much to them and that he was sure it was a prized possession, but the two older people just shook their heads and pushed it toward him once more. Patrick even teared up, assuring them that he’d put it to good use inside of _ Rose Apothecary _ (much to David’s chagrin) and laid it gently beside him. 

David had gotten Patrick a few new moleskin journals, and when questioned about why he’d gotten them specifically, the sweater-clad man had just blushed and said “you _ do _ need someplace to store all of your songwriting, so…” Patrick had grinned at him, pulling him into a quick kiss, before David snuck far behind the Christmas tree and pulled out a small little box addressed to one Sarah Rose.

Alexis looked at him questioningly as he handed it to her daughter, the little girl already looking at it in wonder, and with a gentle urge to “open it” she rips off the paper delicately to reveal the velvet box underneath. She creaks it open with a small _ pop _ and immediately gasps, holding the small inscription in her tiny hands. It has an S on it, a necklace with her own initial, and she immediately looks up to David and wraps him in the biggest hug she can muster.

“Thank you, Uncle David!” She cries out earnestly, and he smiles as he holds her, Alexis also mouthing an emotional “thank you” to him so that her daughter cannot see.

“Of course!” He responds, “now you can even match with your mommy.”

At this, she spins around wildly, admiring her mother’s necklace with newfound love. “I can!” She squeals, and offers the box to her father, begging him to put the gold chain around her neck. He does so with his own happy grin, fastening it around her quietly, and she bounces up and down when it’s secure.

“I’m never taking this off!” She vows, causing the rest of the adults to laugh, and follows it up with an insistent, “I’m really not!” to seal the promise. It’s adorable, and very sweet, and a selfish part of David really hopes it’s true.

And as he laces his hand with Patrick’s as he watches the little girl dance around with her parents, all he can think is that he doesn’t regret coming this Christmas one bit.


	6. of ebullience and endings

_ Five and a half years later _

Patrick glances in the mirror, adjusting his tie once more before smoothing out the suit jacket that he wore. One look down at his shoes shows that yes, they are still as shiny as they were three minutes ago, and once again, he has nothing that he can do to soothe his nerves. 

All of the sudden, his phone begins to ring, and he grits his teeth. It’s been ringing off the hook for the past hour and a half, and worst of all, no one has let him answer it. He knows it’s probably his mother or father, asking about the cake delivery or where the place was again, but every time he reached for it, Stevie would swat his hand away and keep it just out of reach.

And it made sense - everyone knew that the very first thing he’d do was text David some nervously optimistic text message and then regret it immediately after.

Was he getting cold feet? Absolutely not. He loved David to the moon and back. Was the mere idea of the day ahead still filling him with an indeterminable amount of nervousness? 100 percent.

As he proceeds to get lost in his thoughts once more, he adjusts his tie so horribly that he has to do knot it all over again.

Stevie’s voice appears from behind him, slightly stressed. “Patrick! You’re going to wrinkle it.”

He felt the slap to his hands before she even got near him, already deftly fixing the piece of fabric in her hands. “You’re going to kill me, you know that,” she murmurs, “I’m supposed to be with David, calming him down, but here I am, letting you murder me with your terrible tie skills.”

“Oh no,” Patrick says sarcastically, “good thing we’re in a church. How much do you think an impromptu funeral service costs?”

That earned him a good-natured punch to the arm. “Can it. I worked hard to tie that tie the last billion times you undid my handiwork, the least you could do is let it stick for more than five minutes.”

Patrick sighs softly. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just… nervous about all this.”

“Don’t I know it,” Stevie grins back, sliding the tie into the proper position once more. “Okay. Don’t mess with it again, alright? I know David will never forgive you if you get married in a wrinkled tux.”

He chuckles at that, because it’s completely true.

And then he frowns again.

And then he starts fidgeting with his damn tie again, because he was going to be married to  _ David _ in less than an hour, and my god, that was something amazing.

Stevie’s phone rang before she could stop him messing with it, and she gives him an exasperated eyebrow raise before forcing his hands to his side and walking out the door to answer it.

Instead of taking off the tie, he decided to give Stevie a rest. She’d been working tirelessly all day, to make his and David’s wedding the best event possible and to keep the two main men calm. So he collapses into the seat he’d been in before, opting for fidgeting with the lapels of his suit jacket instead, slightly wrinkling those as well. And then he runs a hand through his hair, because it’s closely cropped and Stevie couldn’t chastise him about it.

When he looked sufficiently more mussed than he had been before, he stood up from the chair and then back down again, as if second guessing the gesture. He then stood again, and turned to see Sarah talking animatedly into her phone, her hands waving at nothing in the form of some invisible lecture.

It was as good of a distraction as any, he thought, making his way over.

“-gonna have to bring her then, Trice!” Sarah was saying. “Yes! Oh my god, don’t give me that. Everyone with eyes knows that you’ve long since forgiven her and you’re just stubborn as hell. Even _ you _ can’t hide the goo-goo eyes you make at her from me.” There was an indignant garbled shout on the other end of the call, and Sarah giggles. “Listen, if Dean’s already got a plus one and yours bailed on you, then-ugh, I honestly don’t know why you’re asking me! I can hear Lady in the background, so I already know you’ve decided to bring her. _ Yes, _ Tricey, because she’s the only girl you know who speaks German, and I can hear Elise responding to it.”

Patrick snorts as Sarah gestures to the phone, rolling her eyes and sticking her tongue out.

“Bad time?” He mouths playfully, and she quickly shakes her head, holding her hand out to stop him from moving any further. “Oh, no, Tricey, I’m going through a tunnel! What-yes I am, here I go, tell her I said hello  _ bye!” _

She laughed at the squawk of “Wait!” on the other end of the line before the call ends and she drops her arm to her side. “Hi, Uncle Patrick. You look very handsome. You should wear black more often, it suits you!”

He snorts. “Thanks. You look pretty, Sarah. Iris did a great job picking that out for you.”

Sarah beams. “I think I might incorporate it into a quick change for my show. I’ll have to see what kind of tricks require fancy dresses.”

“You’ll have to keep me posted,” he offered, grinning. The young girl had decided to take up magic for herself, and she’d become fairly decent at it; her parents had indulged in her habit, buying her the needed cards and scarves and occasionally even letting her perform onstage. He nodded his chin toward the phone in her hand. “What was that about?”

Sarah huffs, the entire movement coursing through her in a full-body eyeroll. “Tricey’s being obtuse.”

He crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow. “About?”

“Everything!” she blurted. “Aron mysteriously got a twenty-four hour version of mono because he said he’d be alright enough to hang out with Tricey tomorrow, and so he suggested that Lady go in his place, and Tricey is being stubborn about it.”

Patrick nodded a little, grinning. “And this twenty-four hour thing—this just happened, huh? He just suddenly got the idea—er, the ‘mono’ out of the blue?”

Sarah coughed delicately into her hand, embarrassed, before adopting her uncle’s goofy posture. “A magician can never reveal her secrets, silly,” Sarah’s grin widened. “But…we may have been planning this for a few weeks.”

He laughed at that, leaning against the wall. “And Tricey is…?”

“Trying very hard to disappear into the floor of the café because apparently she looks really good in a lace dress.”

Her eyes widened at that, and she snapped her fingers, looking suddenly frustrated. “Shoot! Speaking of disappear, I forgot my gloves!”

Sarah had his cell phone back up to her ear a second later, already giving poor Trice directions to where she kept her gloves.

And he’d been thinking about guiding the conversation toward getting the damn thing back, too.

At this point, it wasn’t even the wedding tradition of not seeing the other until the altar. This was a game of intentional keep away, and he was losing.

“Yeah, the drawer next to all the magic stuff - it should be the second one down. Oh, wait, not the second one, the third one… Sorry.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow at that. “What’s in your second drawer?”

Sarah shifted the phone a bit, away from her mouth to giggle, “Seltzer water.”

“…Why?”

“For drinking purposes, obviously. No, Tricey, I was talking to Uncle Patrick, you already figured that out on your own. Anyway, you got them? Okay, thanks! See you soon!”

She hung up the phone again, and said, without any preamble, “I’m under strict instructions to call Tricey every time you think about reaching for your phone, sir.”

Patrick groans to himself. _ Damn it. _

Whatever expression his face was showing, it made Sarah laugh. She tucked the phone into her purse. “You’ll have bad luck if you text him, you know.”

He sighed, moving to sit on one of the chairs in the room. It was overstuffed in the seat and understuffed in the arms, and creaked a bit whenever he moved. “I think that’s only for seeing them.”

“We can’t be too careful. Mommy said she waited years for you two to get together. I’m not about to let any bad luck make us wait any longer.”

He grinned at that.

Patrick covered his face with his hands and groaned. (And he’s spectacular, and I just want to make sure he’s as nervous as I am, but also that he hasn’t left because he’s as nervous as I am!)

“Listen, you’re not talking to him,” Sarah said matter-of-factly. “Although… are you getting used to using  _ husband _ yet?”

Another groan. “Yes,” he mumbled between the spaces of his hands. “No. Depends. Is he still here?”

Sarah giggled. “I’m sure he is.”

“Would I be the worst, most cowardly uncle and person in the world if I asked you to go check if that were true?”

Sarah pulled a folding chair along the floor to set in front of him, making sure she was eye to eye with him before speaking. She frowns gently. “Do you really want me to check for that?”

He sighed. No, not really, he didn’t want that. They’d both been in this for the long haul—there was no seed planted into his head that he’d leave. But there was the giddy nervousness of seeing him again, and that was enough to prompt a “No, but can you anyway?”

She laughed as he dropped his head into his hands again, and patted his shoulder affectionately. “I’ll go tell Uncle David  _ hello _ for you, okay?”

He reached up to take her hand and give it a thankful squeeze. “You are the world’s greatest niece.”

“Yeah, I know. You should give me more birthday money this year if I’m gonna play carrier pigeon, though. My amount goes up the longer the message is.”

At this, he finally laughed a real, hysteria free laugh. “I take it all back. You’re not that great.”

Faux shock painted its way across his niece’s features as she gasped. “Well I never! And here I thought you loved me!”

“Think again, kiddo,” he teased, standing with her to give her a thankful kiss to the crown of her head.

The door to the room swung open again, and Stevie walks in just as Sarah turns to exit. She gives him a soft smile. “Make sure to not untie your tie again, yeah? I’ll be back in a jiff.” Man, she was just like her mother.

They stared after Sarah for a moment longer before Stevie turned back to him, giving him a once over with expecting eyes. “You doing okay?”

He chewed his lip. “Kinda. I’m… really nervous. I know, I know, I’ve said that thousands of times today, but still.”

Stevie offered a sympathetic wince of a smile and went to smooth out his jacket, eyebrows furrowing minimally at the wrinkled lapels. “Yeah. It gets like that. Remember how nervous I was?”

He nodded. Stevie, to everyone’s surprise, was a very hyperactive nervous person. She’d rearranged her bedroom three times the night before her wedding, and the cabinets in her bathroom once before David and Patrick had the idea to step in and calm her down.

She giggled. “It’s going to be great.”

He nodded again, this time smiling as she gave a final tug to his vest. “What went through your mind when you and Petra got married?” he asked, suddenly. “Like, once you got up to the altar.”

“Oh that’s easy,” she said, waving her hand in front of her face. The translucent blue shawl she’d been wearing to keep her shoulders covered slipped off and was now hanging from one arm as she spoke, giving way to the nicely cut, slightly bluer dress beneath.

“I was super nervous when I started walking to meet her up there. I kept thinking I was going to fall, or that someone was going to yell  _ objection! _ when they ask you to basically yell that, even though I knew no one would have. I was so nervous to stand up there and tell her, in front of everyone, that I loved her.”

Patrick swallowed. “Uh, that doesn’t help, actually. Like, at all.”

Stevie scoffed, lightly hitting his suited shoulder. “Let me finish, dummy.” She cleared her throat, shifting her weight, and begins. “Once I was face to face with her though I… kind of just... realized it didn’t matter where I was at that moment. She looked… really, really pretty, and she was there. We were on an altar about to have this moment a lot of people dream about and it was… I don’t know. It felt like it was just another moment. Like breathing. It was easy… she always makes things so nice.”

Patrick watched her in awe as she gathered her shawl again, draping it over her shoulder. When she caught him, she gave him a droll stare. “Shut up.”

“That was so sappy, Stevie, oh my god.”

“Shut up!” She shoved his shoulder lightly. “Don’t make fun of me, I had my act together way before you!”

He laughed at that, really laughed, and she joined in. “Which is why you were clearly the only choice for best man. David loves you very much.”

Stevie’s grin became something softer, and she shoved him again with a mumbled, “Of course. I love him, too. One of the best friends I could ever ask for.” She laughs quietly this time, and Patrick just gives her a simple, meaning smile.

The door behind them opened, and Sarah poked her head inside. “Uncle David says _ hi  _ back, and that he hopes you can calm down a little bit. Though he… did seem a little unsteady himself.”

“Uh oh,” Stevie said, but her tone of voice conveyed no concern, only mild amusement. “Is he tying and untying his bowtie or pacing?”

“Both, actually. I think he was fixing to retie it while I was there. It was pretty wrinkled.”

Patrick sighs to himself, still smiling. _ That’s David for you, I suppose. At least I’m not alone there. _

Sarah seemed to straighten up then, as if forgetting something and offered, “He also said that he’s excited. Very excited to see you out there.”

Patrick chuckled. That was… a relief, and also incredibly sweet. His nerves, thank the Lord, settled some. “Thank you, Sarah. Tell him I said to try and calm down and uh. Uh, that I’m also a hypocrite for telling him that.” He tugged at his tie absently. “And uh. Thank you.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow, smiling. “Tell  _ him _ thank you? Or are you thanking me?”

“Thanking you,” he answered. “Are people here yet?”

Both Stevie and Sarah were nodding before he finished the sentence, and he ran his hand through his hair, unthinking, giving a half-strangled laugh. Oh _ God _ , it was almost time.

“Don’t worry, Uncle Patrick. I’ll go let Uncle David know, and then you’ll be out there and married in no time.”

The door shut, and his stomach fluttered somewhere between elation and nausea. Married in no time. Exciting. Nerve wracking. Oh god. 

“Oh, God.”

Oh man. “Oh, man.” 

Was he excited? God, yes. Yes. He’s never been more ready for anything. But…

“You okay?”

“Kind of?” Mostly, it was just aimless anxiety mixed with excitement, mixed with nervousness. He figured that was just how most people getting married felt.

Stevie put a comforting hand on his back. “You’re going to be fine, Patrick. He loves you more than practically anything on this godforsaken earth.”

He calms some at those words, giggling. “God,” he breathed. “I guess I really am getting married. I’ve never… felt so happy. Or excited. What if I say something stupid at the altar?”

“Aw, it won’t be that bad.” Stevie said, hip checking him. “If anything, you’re going to have to step up your game. You’re married now. There’s a whole other level of embarrassment to unlock.”

He snorted. It would be fine. Silly words or no, he carried the  _ real _ words with him in his pocket and in his mind and in his heart. They were in the wrinkles around David’s eyes when he smiled. They were in each hug, and each time his fingers laced with the others. Each kiss before bed, each slow dance around the living room, and each cup of coffee shared into the late work nights. 

A knock on the door threw him from his thoughts, and Sarah appeared again, looking excited. “Hey.” 

“Hey.” He sounded nervous.

“I think it’s time,” she said, all smiles.

Patrick took a deep breath. Looked at Stevie, who patted his shoulder and headed for the door. “See you out there!”

He smiled, and went to fidget with his tie just once more before taking a steadying breath.

He was ready.

* * *

“I never thought I’d see the day a human wore a path into the floor by pacing alone,” Alexis said, sitting on top of the windowsill and swinging her legs, “but you might actually do it at this rate.”

David sent her a glare that would have toppled lesser folk. Luckily for Alexis, she was just the type of person to let that type of unsaid sourness fuel her, and so he sent a pleading look to Johnny for support when she simply raised her eyebrows and waved to his sorry state.

“Don’t look at me, buddy,” he said, looking guilty. “She’s right. I can already see the wood warping.”

He groaned. “You two are absolutely no help. Alexis, you’re not even supposed to  _ be _ in this room.”

Alexis shrugged. “Leave the window locked next time.”

He paused. “What the hell is that supposed to me-,”

“Anyway,” she interrupted loudly, hopping back onto her feet, “you’re ruining your bowtie. You know that, right? It’s wrinkled.”

He looked down at his hands and blinked. Sure enough, the fabric was crumpled between them, having been taken off during his last burst of nervousness.

He certainly wasn’t getting cold feet—after everything that would be absurd. No but… but the idea that this was happening so soon had him keeping his hands busy, and his mind busy, and his legs busy. He was antsy.

The five-toned ring of his cell phone—currently held hostage by his darling, devious sister—made him jump and turn.

Alexis answered it for him, holding out a finger. He paused in his move to grab for it. “You’ve reached the phone of David ‘I Love My Soon-To-Be-Husband’ Rose. You’ve got Alexis Rose. What’s the sitch?”

“I hate you so much,” David told her, reaching his hand out for the device. “What if that was a seller, Alexis, give it here!”

“Ah, well, oops,” his sister said, dodging his hand easily. He pulled back with a groan. “Sorry Stevie, David is not allowed to have his phone, because he’s going to call Patrick with it, and it would be bad luck to do so. Also, he’s being a big jerkface.”

He could hear his best friend’s voice buzzing through the phone, and at one point thought he caught the word “dumbass” thrown in there.

“Okay. I’ll let him know. He’s worn a trail in the floor from pacing, by the way.”

“Give me the phone!”

Alexis stuck her tongue out at him. “Hold on, Steve, I’ll put you on speaker.”

David huffed, and behind him, Johnny laughed fully.

Well, at least someone was having fun here.

“—ecessary, Alexis, I’m only calling to let my stupid best friend know I have Adrian overseeing the rest of the reception’s catering. I will be at the church shortly.”

“That’s good to know,” David interjected. “Everything is set at the Gardens then?” he asked.

“David! You sound one rotting support beam away from a total collapse.“

He sighed. “Yes, I’m sure. Everything is set then?”

“Alexis had told me you have worn a trail in to the floor. What are you fixating on now? It is your marriage, not a hanging.”

“I know that!” he exclaimed, his face flushing. “That… that is a non-issue, I’m hardly treating this as an execution. I—“ he paused and took a deep breath to calm himself. “We’re getting off subject. The catering, Stevie?”

She gave a derisive snort. “In good hands.”

“The venue?”

“You already know it’s ready for you.”

“Right,” he agreed, running a hand through his hair. Alexis squeaked in protest, and Johnny, surprisingly, did too.

He could hear Stevie shift her phone to her shoulder, laughing an accusatory, “What have you done, David Rose?”

“I can wholeheartedly assure you I have no idea.”

“He sort of messed up his hair, Steve,” Johnny cut in, giggling, and David turned to him with what he hoped was an exasperated look. His dad did look properly cowed, so he took it as a win.

“Don’t let him waltz up to the altar looking disheveled, yeah? Patrick’s been really antsy, too. You both are gonna be fine. Now, I don’t want you calling me anymore, okay?” David exhales; _ she _ was the one who called him in the first place. “You can do this.” 

And then, leaving no room for him to argue, she hung up.

Alexis turned to him and sighed, tucking the phone into her handbag. “You look spooked, David. Like, really, really freaked out.”

Which, of course, only served to remind him that he was not here for just any wedding, but his own wedding and. And. Ugh.

David groaned, turned toward the mirror. He’d had the foresight to take off the white jacket he’d been in so as not to mess it up, but the collar of his dress shirt was rolled in the back instead of flat causing the front to stick out awkwardly. His hair was mussed, and he… well... He felt just a tad nervous and it showed on his face, in the press of his lips as he frowned at his reflection.

With a huff he started to refasten his neckwear into something salvageable. Truly, this was ridiculous. He’d seen this type of nervousness in so many of his other friends as they paced and rambled and tugged at their dresses and ties. His own father had done it, for crying out loud. And every time he watched this, he would nod, sympathize, and tell himself that he would never be that nervous if ever he got married.

And it wasn’t as if he wasn’t sure of Patrick, or of his dedication to this. If there was one thing he was sure of, it was his decision to marry the man he was going to. Rather, it was…the coming change for the both of them was just a tad startling.

A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, which was also a tad startling. He caught himself paling in the mirror at the sudden jolt, and let out a harsh breath of air.

He shakes his head slowly. _ God, I’m making such a mess of myself. It’s gone perfectly well for all the others, why shouldn’t it for this wedding? _

“You know, David,” Johnny started, “when I got married, I thought the change was going to be scary, too.”

He huffed a laugh at that, and undid the bowtie again. It just didn’t  _ look right. _ Perhaps it was nerves; perhaps some sleeping sense of fashion had awoken within him. It was unclear, really. “I remember that quite well, Dad. I’ve heard the stories before. You said you were one hundred percent sure she’d leave you there.”

The hand on his shoulder switched to a good-natured back-pat that nearly had him flying into the vanity in front of him.

“She didn’t, though, and when I saw my Moira at the other end of the aisle…” his voice wavered, and David watched him move to swipe at one of his eyes.

Before his father could pull himself together to continue, a small knock from the outside of the door interrupted them, and David called, “Come in,” without really thinking.

Which of course sent him into a short lived panic of, what if it’s Patrick? What if he doesn’t listen to tradition at all, he doesn’t care about superstition, before Sarah poked her head in, eyes scanning the room until they landed on his frazzled form.

“Wow. You’re kind of a mess,” she giggled, letting herself in.

He huffed as Alexis burst into laughter, pulling her daughter into a hug. “Hello to you too, Sarah,” he said as polite as he could manage without sounding like his composure was hanging by a couple of threads. “You look very nice.”

She beamed. “Thanks! I don’t have a lot to be nervous about, so my dress is pretty wrinkle free. My hair, on the other hand, might be a little messed up.” She tucked a loose bit behind her ear as if to prove her point, it falling into the bun behind her. “Tricey and Dean have been calling Uncle Patrick’s phone on and off all day. They finally left the shop though, so.” She shrugged.

He chuckled at that. “I see.” He glanced toward the door, and then back to Sarah. “Did your uncle send you here?”

She shrugged again. “Kind of. He was curious to see how you were feeling about everything.”

“Rather nauseous actually,” he blurted, and earned a shocked laugh from the young woman.

“Well then! Uh, well, I hope that’s normal,” she laughed, and his neck and face grew hot.

To his left, Johnny nodded. “It sure is! I couldn’t eat for hours before my wedding. Tried to drink a mug of coffee and my hands were shaking so bad most of it fell on the floor instead of in my mouth.”

Sarah snickered at this, patting the man’s arm. “Well, thanks. Good to know my second favorite father figure isn’t getting cold feet.”

She turned to him then, and very suddenly had him in a firm hug. It threw him for only a moment before he responded in kind.

He’d gotten used to her hugs over time, but it never stopped shocking him that it was no longer simply just her more-than-absent uncle. She trusted him, and even though she was only thirteen, she was wise beyond her years. He was so proud, and she had so much ahead of her.

The thought of it all sent another anxious, excited ripple through him.

“Uncle Patrick says he hopes you’re calmer than he is. He’s feeling kind of antsy,” Sarah told him softly, into his shoulder. “He told me to tell you not to worry so much. And said it’s all going to be fine.”

“Tell him I said so as well, I suppose.” If Patrick was more relaxed than he was—at this point he was miles passed “antsy”—perhaps a couple of deep breaths and a reassessment of his thoughts would do him good.

Sarah released him, beaming. “I’ll pass it along.”

“Thank you.” He leaned down a bit to kiss the crown of her head gently. “I’ll see you shortly.”

“And Uncle Pat too,” she teased, offering a good natured wink. “Good luck. I’ll try to downplay the nervousness, but you owe me one!”

With that, she flitted out the door.

Behind him, Alexis’s own cell phone rang. “Alexis Rose, who is this?” she answered, and he turned to watch her grin and nod once. “Lovely. Be there in a second. Mmhm. Bye.”

She tucked her phone away and gave her brother a final once over. “Well, Twyla is here, and we’re gonna go grab our seats before we aren't able to get a good vantage point to see you and your sweet little button face tear up."

Johnny laughed at that, and David flushed. “Isn’t Twyla here to take pictures?” Johnny asked.

“Yes,” he replied shortly.

Alexis chuckled once, and straightened and smoothed his collar before bringing him into a hug.

“Take a deep breath,” she said softly. “You’re going to do amazing. You’ve been waiting for this for forever - be excited, yeah?” And with that, she too leaves, blowing both he and Johnny kisses as she does so.

After she leaves, his father turned and grinned at him. “You picked the right man, David. I couldn’t imagine you with anyone else; he suits you perfectly. I think you should be alright if he chooses to declare his love for you in front of the entire world; god knows he means it.”

David blinked. “What… makes you think I assume he would be unhappy with a public declaration of love?”

“Just seems like something you’d figure.” Johnny looked down at his wristwatch and his eyebrows rose. “Almost time. Are you ready?”

He adjusted his bowtie once more, and patted himself down to comfort himself before nodding. It wouldn’t be hard; if Patrick did, in fact, proclaim his love for all of their family to see, then so be it - David would do it, too. It wouldn’t be hard, just a reiteration of something the shop owner felt everyday about his partner.

He loved him.

“I…am ready, yes,” he answered, shrugging on the tux jacket.

And he was.

* * *

And once again, when they both step forward on the altar, they look above them to see a sprig of Christmas plant hanging over their heads.

And like that fateful evening, under the mistletoe, they begin anew.


End file.
